Priceless
by Loupee
Summary: When two strangers connect one evening it seems like a beautiful beginning but the sober light of morning reveals a very different truth. A story of mistaken identities, guilt, greed and perhaps second chances amidst the glitz of the French Riviera. Very loosely inspired by the French film Hors de Prix but does not follow the same story line. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE**

_Katniss aged 12_

"Isn't she beautiful?" whispered Primrose in awe.

The two sisters studied the glamorous woman from their vantage point behind the cleaning trolley. School was cancelled due to yet another teacher's strike, and their mother had had no alternative but to bring her two young daughters to work with her at the hotel. They were on strict orders to keep quiet and stay hidden. If the manager saw them their mother risked losing her job.

"I want to be just like her when I grow up," pronounced Primrose.

"Tsk," their mother tutted, emerging from the hotel room a bundle of sheets in her arms. "You most definitely do not want to be like her," she said dumping the sheets in the laundry trolley.

Katniss looked back to the woman at the end of the corridor, she could have been a model straight out of one of the magazines that she and Primrose loved to look at, the ones that guests sometimes left behind in the hotel rooms. The woman was stunning; she wore beautiful stylish clothing, her long tanned legs balanced on incredibly high heels, and gold flashed at her neck and around her wrists. She was laughing, waiting for the gentleman she was with to open the door. Clearly drunk in the afternoon, he was having problems with the room's key card.

"But why not mama?" asked Prim.

"A girl like that hasn't done a decent day's work in her life. Happy to live off the riches of men like that." Her mother replied casting a disdainful look in the couple's direction.

Katniss looked at her mother, thin and tired looking, aged beyond her years from working long hours and struggling to raise her two children alone. She considered the red skin of her mother's hands, sore and dry from cleaning all day, and wondered whether a life of luxury, never needing to work, was really such a terrible thing.

"I don't see why I should have to work if I were married to a rich man like that," pouted Primrose.

Their mother laughed then. "Oh, I expect he's got a wife alright, but that's certainly not her. I'd bet my life that's his mistress, she's a gold-digger if ever I saw one. Why else do you think she would be with someone old enough to be her father? And she works for that money, believe me!"

The meaning of her mother's last comment might have been completely lost on her younger sister but Katniss understood what she was implying._ Uggh_, the thought of the beautiful young woman sleeping with that man made her stomach turn, he looked old enough to be the woman's grandfather not her father.

"Well _I_ will marry a rich man," Prim declared "and he'll buy me jewellery and gifts and beautiful clothes."

"The only reason rich men like him buy their wives presents is when they're feeling guilty about the time they spend with women like that." Her mother retorted nodding back to the couple.

The man had managed to open the door and now leant in close to whisper in the woman's ear, his arm slipped around her waist and then lower to rest on her behind. For a second Katniss saw something flicker across the woman's face that the man could not see, a look of disgust or perhaps self-loathing, before the woman again plastered the look of enjoyment on her face.

Katniss might join Primrose in fantasizing about a life of riches, where they never had to worry about being able to afford the rent and they could buy clothes from the expensive designer stores they dreamily window shopped in, rather than from second hand charity shops. But she did not want any of those things: the clothes, the jewellery, the lifestyle, if it meant having to be with a man like that. She swore she would never end up like that.

* * *

This was inspired by the French romcom _Hors de Prix_ which stars Audrey Tautou - which is a very cute film if you can cope with the sub-titles.

Thanks massively to Kismet4891 for betaing this.

As always I'm keen to hear what you think so feel free to leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

_The present day._

Peeta woke with a groan, his head was throbbing, his eyes didn't want to open and he was pretty sure something had crawled in and died in his mouth last night. How much had he had to drink? Rubbing his eyes he tried to remember how he'd got back to Joséphine's villa last night.

He rolled over and nearly fell out the bed with shock at the sight of the head of dark hair spread out on the pillow next to him.

_Shit! Shit! _

It came rushing back to him then. He remembered exactly how he'd got back to the villa and he was beginning to remember what followed after. Holding his aching head in his hands, he looked around the room taking in the sight of the scattered clothes and the ripped condom packet on the bedside table. Shit, even the used condom hastily thrown towards the wastebasket that had missed and now lay on the floor beside it.

_Shit! Shit! _

This wasn't happening. He couldn't believe he would do _that._ He had never slept with anyone else but Margot, not before or after they were married. This could not be real, it had to be a drunken distortion of the true events because the things he was starting to remember could not have really happened.

But the longer he sat there looking around the room and at the dark hair mussed out beside him, the more images of last night kept finding their way into his head.

Her laughing, her skin under his hands as he unzipped her dress, the moans she emitted as he dropped to his knees in front of her dragging down her underwear, running his tongue up the length of her thigh before dipping between her legs. The way she'd held him there, her hands tangled in his hair - he could almost feel the tug smarting on his scalp now as he thought of it.

He remembered her pushing him down on the bed, his trousers and shorts already lost somewhere on route to the room. The way she'd left a trail of kisses from his neck right down to his cock, before taking him in her mouth. Fuck he remembered moaning her name then. Katniss! Yes definitely Katniss. Fuck it had felt good. She'd looked up, meeting his gaze with a shamelessly devilish spark in big dark eyes as her tongue had teasingly circled his tip and he'd moaned her name.

And then she'd crawled back up his body, her hands coming to a stop on either side of his head, her breasts inches from his lips and he'd taken them in his hands before bringing them to his mouth. He hadn't been gentle, and she hadn't seemed to mind at all, in fact he seemed to remember her asking him to be a little rougher. She'd produced a condom from somewhere, god knows he didn't have any. First letting his tongue tease between her legs again until she was practically begging him, he had fucked her. Yes, that was the right word. Sex seemed too clinical and they had definitely not made love. They had fucked, once, no twice, he definitely remembered a second time with her on top. God, yes he remembered that now, the way she'd looked above him there was no way he could forget that again.

He knew it wouldn't be entirely honest to blame it all on the alcohol, no matter how much he'd like to. He hadn't been drunk when he'd met her, they'd got drunk later. Together.

But that man last night, that hadn't been him. He wasn't sure who it was, but it was not the real Peeta. He didn't do things like that, his head dropping to his hands in shame and despair, he had always been a faithful husband and father. At least he had been.

* * *

Merde!

Thanks to Kismet4891 for betaing and to everyone who left a review for the first chapter. I'd love to hear what you think of this part!


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE**

_Last night._

Katniss tottered across the grass away from the marquee, she'd had enough of that crowd for one evening.

She had argued with Corneille again before they came to the party and she was not prepared to spend the evening smiling and laughing with his friends and associates as if nothing had happened. Monsieur Corneille LeBlanc could entertain them on his own this evening, and every evening from now on for all she cared.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, if only that were true, she needed him far more than he did her. She was well aware he could have a replacement for her at the snap of his fingers. Which was why it was so important to get him to propose. With the right pre-nup she would be set up for life, if she could just get that ring on her finger. Even more financially advantageous would be if she had his child, but that was not an avenue she wished to go down. Bringing a child into this mess was not fair. But LeBlanc's divorce had been finalized six months ago and he showed no inclination of proposing.

When she'd tactfully tried to raise the topic he had forcefully shut the subject down, before trying to smooth the situation explaining to her that the matter with his ex-wife was still very complicated and raw. Speaking to her in the condescending tone he reserved for those he felt were beneath him, such as bellboys, waitresses, shop assistants, basically anyone who didn't move in his elite circle of intellectuals.

It had brought out the childish brat in her and she'd called him a pig and slammed the bathroom door in his face. Only to have to emerge when she'd calmed, knowing she would have to salvage the situation if she didn't want him to stay angry with her. She had dropped to her knees before him to show him how sorry she was, and she didn't get up again until she knew he was satisfied. The whole afternoon left a bitter taste in her mouth, for more than one reason, and she needed some distance from him tonight.

Her ankle twisted as the lawn gave way to a bank that sloped down to the lake and she slipped her feet from her Louboutins and continued barefoot, her shoes dangling from her fingers.

It wasn't until she reached the lake, a grand manmade affair with stone steps that led down to the water, when she realized she was not the only one to have slipped away from the celebrations.

A man sat reclined on the steps with his back to her. She could not see his face, but she had become skilled at judging a man from his appearance and in particular his clothes. He had taken off his jacket and it lay on the step beside him, his shirt was crisp and clean, brand new if she had to guess and although she could not see the label inside the jacket she could almost smell its quality. He was undoubtedly wealthy enough to afford a high-end designer suit.

She stood motionless watching as he raised a bottle of champagne to his lips, before setting it down on the step beside him with a dull clunk. But it was the hand that lay idle on his other side that she was more interested in. She noted with satisfaction that there was no ring on his finger.

Single, young, wealthy and alone. She licked her lips excited by the prospect that sat before her. Let LeBlanc play his silly games, if he were not willing to marry her then perhaps it was time to find a new playfellow.

Creeping noiselessly across the grass, she slipped her hands over his eyes to blindfold him, whilst at the same time whispering in his unsuspecting ear so close her lips brushed his skin. "Étienne what a surprise, I didn't think you were coming this evening."

His hands caught hers pulling them from his eyes as he turned and she intentionally stumbled so that she skillfully had to steady herself with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his thigh.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in fake surprise, "I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly," he said. She noticed he looked uncomfortable so she retracted her hand from his thigh without it appearing obvious. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"It's me that should be apologizing, I don't make a habit of creeping up on people like that. It's just that I mistook you for my cousin, you look so alike from behind," she lied.

She looked back towards the lights of the marquees where the sounds of the glamorous guests, who had assembled that evening for one of the most exclusive events on Nice's social calendar, could still be clearly heard enjoying themselves. And she wondered what had made him seek the quiet solitude of the lake.

"Are you enjoying the party?" she asked.

"It's not really my kind of thing," he shrugged with a smile, 'but a friend insisted I come."

"Won't _she_ be missing you?" she tested.

He laughed, and she liked the way his eyes crinkled when he did so. "I imagine Joséphine's found _something_ to occupy her by now."

Katniss mulled his answer over, she didn't like it that he had come with another woman, but then he had just implied that she was likely to be with someone else by now.

"How about you?" She looked at him unsure how to respond, whether he was asking if she too had found something to occupy her. "Are you escaping the party as well?" He prompted at her silence.

She nodded, relieved to understand. "I'm just not in the mood for pretending to be interested in the stupid things said by people who think themselves incredibly clever." Her eyes widened in alarm as her head caught up with her mouth, she had not meant to tell him the truth, she was usually so guarded. Always careful to sculpt her words to ensure she said what others wanted to hear, but for some reason she had felt comfortable to say what she really felt and that, she realized was a very dangerous thing.

But he just laughed at her, a genuine wide smile on his face, "I know exactly what you mean."

"So is it all right if I hang out here with you for a while, you've found such a lovely spot to hide." She commented looking out over the lake. It really was a lovely view across the lake with the last of the summer evening's sun streaking across the surface.

He nodded and when she pointed to the bottle of champagne he passed it to her. She took a sip, noting that it was still almost full.

She found Peeta, as he introduced himself, was incredibly easy to talk to. She liked the way he didn't ask her any personal questions, instead the conversation flowed easily about food and art, which she was able to garner were his passions. He teased her that, despite living in Nice for years, she had never visited any of the museums. When he had suggested that they needed to rectify that, she felt an uncommon flutter of excitement at the thought of him taking her, which she quickly attributed to the effects of the champagne.

When they finished the bottle they stole back to the party to swipe not one, but two more bottles from the bar and then returned to their own private soirée by the lake. She found herself telling him things she had not spoken of in years. All about the lake in her hometown where she learnt to swim as a child before she and her family had moved to Nice. She recalled details about the walk through the woods to the lake that she had not realised she even still remembered. Peeta listened to her story with active interest, his comments and questions encouraging her to continue. She didn't feel that her words were being weighed and measured to deem whether what she said was intelligent or worthy enough to be offered to the conversation, as was so often the case with LeBlanc's friends. In contrast she felt at ease in Peeta's presence, their conversation the closest she'd come to being her real self in years.

It was getting late and the lights from the party were reflected on the wavering surface of the lake when she suggested they leave. Where was he staying she had asked innocently and when he had told her the address it had taken everything for her mouth not to drop open. It was one of the most highly desirable addresses in all of Nice. The villas on that strip, (if they could be called villas, it made them seem far too simple), which overlooked the bay were owned by millionaires and aged film stars, those looking for a glamorous location but with the reclusive exclusivity that only real money could afford.

When she suggested they leave the party he readily agreed. He fumbled with his phone, muttering there was a number for the car in here somewhere and she was impressed he had his own driver. Like naughty children they snuck past the marquees and left the event via the service entrance. Several times she stumbled on the gravel driveway, cursing the height of her heels, until he crouched before her and told her to hop on board, giving her a piggyback to the waiting car and they fell into the back seat drunkenly giggling.

The drive wasn't long but they probably would have fallen asleep if it weren't for the impromptu game that started as the result of his question. "I can't believe you really haven't been to even one of the art museums in town?"

"Believe it, it's real." She'd responded and then they took to asking each other questions to which they replied real or not real, gaining a small insight into each other's lives in a random respect. He'd never sky dived, she had never been outside of mainland Europe, he liked Thai food and she didn't like exercise, until they found themselves outside of the villa. It was much more impressive than LeBlanc's suite at the hotel.

Katniss followed Peeta into the large lounge, as he threw open the wide French windows that led onto the terrace and the pool that overlooked the ocean. The pool in the moonlight looked too inviting to resist.

"Take a swim with me," she implored. He smiled indulgently at her childlike excitement but shook his head explaining, "I think I'm likely to sink after all that champagne."

"Well at least unzip me?" she had turned around and felt him slowly unzip her dress. It slipped to the floor as he pushed the material from her shoulders. She trembled at his gentle touch and she no longer desired to swim. It felt like slow motion as his fingers traced her shoulders again and down her arms and she took a deep unsteady breath as she slowly turned to face him. She read the look in his eyes. He wanted this as much as she did.

And then they were no longer moving in slow motion, instead they were casting clothes aside as he lead her along the corridor, never making it very far before one of them pushed the other against the wall, lips crashing together, hands fumbling with belts and buttons. They barely made it into his room before her back was up against the inside of the door. His kisses were hard and hungry and she liked them, they felt real. His hands skimmed over the lace of her bra, catching her nipple briefly between his thumb and forefinger extracting a gasp of pleasure from her, before his hands continued down over her body.

When he dropped to his knees before her, pulling down her underwear she was impatient to feel him. It felt like torture as he delayed the journey of his tongue, slowly trailing the inside of her thigh, and she moaned unabashedly as his mouth finally claimed her. She fisted at his hair, not a thought to her actions being rougher than she would normally dare, finding a rhythm with his tongue until she cried out his name as she rode the shocks that rolled through her body. Legs splayed she leant hard against the door as if it were the only thing holding her up, regaining her breath as he kissed his way back up over her stomach. His kisses were just as fierce as before as they stumbled toward the bed.

She pushed him down onto his back, swearing when she found out he had no condoms. She commanded him to stay put and not move a muscle as she dashed back down the corridor to grab her purse tripping over one of his discarded shoes on the way and banging her knee. Finding him obediently in the same position on her return, she straddled him as she removed her bra. She enjoyed his reaction to the sight of her, making no attempt to hide his desire. She pushed aside his unbuttoned shirt and placed a trail of kisses down his chest to his groin. She teased him first, lingering with slow strokes of her tongue, making him wait as he had her, before she took him fully in her mouth. She felt a sense of triumph in the sound of her name as his hands tightened in her hair. She pulled back to look up at him, her tongue continuing to circle the tip of his dick and he swore at the sight before commanding her to come to him.

His kisses were urgent, his hands squeezing at her breasts, his mouth greedy as he sucked, and she cried out in pleasure as his teeth took her nipple. Finally, in a heartbeat she was beneath him as he flipped them over, bringing her to the edge again with his tongue. She wasn't sure how she had sense to use a condom, but she still held the one from her purse tightly in her hand. She ripped the packet open with her teeth and skillfully rolled it on him.

It was as if they couldn't get enough of each other, she found herself crying for him to be harder like a clichéd porn-star as her nails left scratches on his skin. He followed moments behind her when she finally cried out in glorious release. They lay deliciously disheveled and breathless, her head spinning. She laughed overwhelmed by the sense of pure contentment that she hadn't felt in years, possibly ever. He grinned at her with a look like the cat that got the cream and she thought how impossibly handsome he was.

She joined him in the bathroom and then in the shower. Which led to their hands on each other again, before stumbling out of the shower, still wet when they hit the bed. This time she straddled him and rode him to completion, without a thought to using a condom.

When they finally collapsed with their heads next to each other on the pillow, she grinned as he pulled her to him wrapping his arms about her, unable to believe that she had the fortune to find a man that she thought she would be able to love for more than just his money.

* * *

Sorry for time hopping backwards and forwards I hope it hasn't been too confusing, this should be the last time and from now on its all in the present day and moving forward.

Thanks again to Kismett4891 for betaing and her patience as I phaffed about obsessing about one paragraph.

And a massive thanks to everyone who has favourited/followed this story so far.

Leave me a review, let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you.

p.s Pictures of how I like to imagine the villa posted here on tumblr


	4. Chapter 4

**PART FOUR**

_Present day_

Katniss was woken by the sound of vomiting in the bathroom. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her palm across her forehead and eyes. She didn't usually let herself drink so much. But as she thought of last night, she smirked with satisfaction that it had been worth it.

She dragged herself out of bed, and found her purse on the floor and retrieved the pills from it.

Peeta was slumped on the floor of the bathroom, naked except for his underwear, his back against the vanity next to the toilet. He looked sick as a dog.

"Here take these," she said popping a couple of anti-nausea and ibuprofen from their packets. She dropped them into his hand and filled the glass on the vanity with water. He knocked them back and taking the glass from him she did the same, before kneeling beside him.

She brushed the hair out of his eyes, and smiled kindly at him, he really did look awful. "Do you want me to get you something to eat, it might help?"

He groaned and shrugged, "Why not, it can't make me feel any worse. But make sure you put something on," he gave a weak smile that failed to cover the awkwardness he felt as he looked at her naked before him, "Unless you don't mind Joséphine seeing you like that."

"Joséphine?" she had not expected the friend he mentioned last night to be here, exactly how close a friend was she?

"Mmhmm," he groaned with a nod, "it's her house, I'm staying with her for a while."

"_Her_ house," she repeated and then with trepidation she asked, "Where do you live?" She prayed he would give the right answer, but he didn't. When he mentioned the name of his home, she remembered him singing the praises of the small town last night, but at the time she had presumed it was somewhere he holidayed or perhaps owned a countryside retreat.

"What do you do there?" she asked, a feeling of dread starting to seep into her, fearing his answer.

"I own the bakery, it's been in the family for genera…"

"You're a baker!" she accused in disbelief, cutting him off midsentence she wasn't interested in his little history lesson right now. "But last night, your clothes, the car, the tickets for the fundraiser alone cost over €1,000, a baker can't afford those kinds of things?"

"Jo insisted she buy me a new suit so I didn't embarrass her at the party last night," he said with wry smile. "She paid for the tickets and it's her car and driver. Why? What does it matter?"

Katniss stood, putting her head in her hands she took a deep breath trying to calm herself, but she could feel herself trembling. What had she done? How stupid could she be to come back here before checking her facts, jeopardizing her relationship with LeBlanc for a baker!

"I have to go," she said an edge of panic rising in her voice. If she got back to the hotel before LeBlanc woke perhaps she could slip in. No, that was stupid. She'd never manage that, but perhaps she could say she stayed the night at a friend's because of their argument. If she promised to make it up to him, offer to let him tie her up the way she knew he liked, perhaps he would be more forgiving.

"What about breakfast?" Peeta asked, confused by her sudden change of mood.

"You can't afford breakfast with me." She replied curtly. But, she'd never felt so cheap in all her life as she saw the moment of understanding on his face as he added up her comments about his suit and his job.

"You only came back with me last night because you thought I was rich?" She didn't say anything. The answer was obvious wasn't it? Surely it didn't need to be said. "Didn't you? Look at me," he shouted. "Tell me, did you only sleep with me because you thought I was rich?"

"Yes!" she shouted back. She expected him to shout at her again, to tell her to get the fuck out of there, instead he dropped his head to his knees hugging his legs to him. He looked so vulnerable she wanted to reach out and stroke his head to admit it wasn't completely true. But instead she backed out of the bathroom. Why should she feel guilty? He'd had his fun last night hadn't he? She reasoned to herself as she hurriedly put on her underwear and grabbed her purse.

Their clothes were just as they had left them last night, his suit and shoes abandoned in the hallway, her shoes kicked off by the terrace windows lay beside her dress. She recalled the way his fingers had felt on her skin as he'd unzipped her last night and she shivered as she pulled the zipper up.

When she turned she found she was being watched. A woman, presumably Joséphine, dressed in a silk kimono leant in the doorway. She said nothing to Katniss just continued to watch her with interest.

"Can I help you?" Katniss snapped, feeling too shit to care if she sounded rude.

The woman shook her head. "No, just interested that's all. I wanted to know what it was about you that was so special."

"Nothing," Katniss replied tersely as she headed to the front door. "There's absolutely nothing special about me."

Her escape was thwarted by the locked door and she had to wait as Joséphine unlocked it with a condescending smirk on her face. As soon as the door was open Katniss attempted to flee, but Joséphine threw her arm across the door blocking her exit.

"I presume from the sounds of the argument we won't be seeing you again. It's a pity you can't see the real value of a good man like that, because if you weren't so interested in his bank account you'd see that what you have there is priceless." She removed her arm from the doorway, but as Katniss hurried down the front steps Joséphine continued. "But if you're too blinded by money to see it, then you really don't deserve him."

LeBlanc was not asleep when she reached the hotel suite. He was sat in a chair on the balcony with a drink in his hand. He didn't move or even look at her as she crossed the room toward him.

She steadied her breath, and composed herself. She needed to play this just right if she were going to survive it.

"Corneille," she said dropping to her knees beside his chair, "forgive me for sulking last night. Let me make up to you." She offered her hands out to him her wrists tightly pressed together as if bound, suggestive of his favourite game.

"Where were you last night?" he asked emotionless, his gaze still not dropping from the horizon."

"I stayed with Portia."

"Liar," he said coldly, brushing her hands out of his way as he stood and walked back into the room.

Without turning to face her he continued, "If you had deemed fit to grace us with your presence last night you would have found that Portia and Emile were at the party. She asked after you."

Katniss panicked, grasping for another excuse. "Alright, I lied. I booked into another hotel, I just needed to be alone."

"Really?" he said turning to look at her for the first time. "You spent last night alone?"

"Of course Corneille, how else."

"I'm just wondering how you managed to give yourself this," he said. Grabbing her upper arms tightly he spun her round to face the mirror, with a sharp yank on her hair he exposed the purple bruise that decorated one side of her neck. Katniss viewed it with horror, recalling Peeta's mouth on her neck as he'd pushed her up against the wall in the hallway, she had a horrible feeling she may have encouraged him.

"You cheap little slut, did you really think you could come crawling back in here and fool me with your pathetic lies." LeBlanc spat as he pushed her roughly away from him and she stumbled to the floor.

"Please Corneille, I was drunk it meant nothing." She begged. "You know that it's you that I love."

"Your bag is already packed," he continued unmoved by her pleading. Opening her purse he tipped its contents out over the coffee table before extracting the credit card he was looking for. "I don't think you'll be needing this anymore, do you? I hope he was worth it."

She was physically shaking as she stood. "Please don't do this Corneille," she implored, "I'll do anything." She reached for his arm, but he slapped her away with a back hander to her cheek and she stumbled in her heels, her face making contact with the corner of the coffee table as she went down. She clutched at her face, she could feel the blood already beginning to weep from the wound.

"Now get out of here before you get blood on the carpet." He dismissed her calmly pouring himself another large scotch before moving to hold open the door for her.

Clutching the table for support, Katniss hauled herself to her feet. She stuffed the contents of her purse back in and grabbed the handle of her case. Slipping on her sunglasses she held her head high as she left the room and didn't look back. She would survive, she always did, she didn't need LeBlanc. Good riddance to him and his sordid little games.

* * *

Thanks to Kismett4891 for reading, encouraging and betaing.

So what d'ya think so far? Katniss is a likeable little thing isn't she?

Go on make my day and leave me a review!


	5. Chapter 5

**PART FIVE**

Katniss found a quiet bench under a tree and pulled out her phone. She called Portia first, but her friend apologized, she could not have Katniss to stay, Emile was in town and he would want her to himself. As Emile paid Portia's rent, and everything else for that matter, what he said went. Katniss could not be angry with her, in fairness she would have probably been reluctant to help Portia out in a similar situation and risk ruining the very comfortable set up of being a rich businessman's mistress.

Knowing it was a long shot, she called a couple of other acquaintances but Katniss wasn't surprised when they too made their excuses, after all it wasn't as if they were close friends.

Removing her glasses she looked at her reflection in her compact. She sported twin bruises on either side of her face. One from LeBlanc's hand, and the other, more severe, where she hit the table. She had cleaned up the blood, but there was still a gash and she was sure it would leave a scar. She could hardly hope to attract anyone else in this state.

She stayed on the bench for a long time trying to weigh up her options, lost in her thoughts she didn't seem to notice that the shops about her were beginning to close up for the end of the day. Pulling out her phone she made a call, desperately in need of a friendly voice. She tried to steady herself as she spoke to Primrose, letting her sister prattle on about college, her workload and her latest boyfriend.

"Are you alright Katniss? You're so quiet."

"Just tired, but all the better for hearing you."

"You work too hard Katniss, you should take a holiday." Katniss' fictitious role as a personnel assistant to a wealthy businessman was a demanding one that had her working long hours, away on travel for months at a time, and leaving her little time for visiting family.

"Maybe I will," she said wincing as she touched the bruise on her temple, "I think I'll take a couple of weeks R&R."

"I'm sorry, but I'd better go Katniss. I have to get this essay finished for tomorrow, but call me soon."

"Sure, you take care ma petite poulette."

She was left alone again, unsure what to do. It had grown dark and the bustling street of a few hours ago now seemed empty and a lot less friendly as the evening wore on. She needed to find somewhere to spend the night, but she certainly didn't have enough in her purse for a hotel room. She had no real savings. She never needed money, LeBlanc paid for everything. He'd been more than generous providing a credit card for her use, she could buy whatever she wanted no questions asked. Neither did she have any jewellery of great worth, LeBlanc disapproving of gaudy ostentatious displays, but if she pawned the diamond earrings she wore she might raise enough for a train fare. But it was too late for that now, she'd have to wait until they opened again in the morning, and even if she did get the money where would she go?

She definitely couldn't turn up on her sister or mother's doorsteps without having to lie about her bruises and risk them prying into her lifestyle. She just needed somewhere to lay low for a while, lick her wounds and put herself back together. She was unused to seeking emotional comfort from others, she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but just for tonight she wanted to feel looked after. For someone to make her feel that everything was going to turn out all right, somewhere she didn't have to pretend, where it felt alright to be herself – just as she had last night.

She used every last cent on the taxi ride. Her hand shook as she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" demanded Joséphine. "Did you not think you'd already done enough damage for one day?"

"I...I want to speak to Peeta," Katniss' voice faltered.

"Why on earth do you think he would want to see you?"

"I just…I just want to speak to him."

"No way! Get the hell off my doorstep."

"Joséphine, are you alright?" Peeta asked coming to see who she was shouting at. "Katniss?"

"It's ok," said Joséphine. "She was just leaving. Weren't you?" she added pointedly.

"What are you doing here?" Peeta asked as he stepped past Joséphine. His initial shock quickly turning to concern as he came closer. "Are you okay?"

Joséphine gave a huff of exasperated annoyance and stormed away shouting "Alright it's your funeral, but I do not want that little whore in my house."

"Are you alright?" he repeated. Katniss shook her head, she had planned on turning on the waterworks when she arrived at the villa, hoping to play on Peeta's sympathy so that he wouldn't turn her away. But now, faced with his genuine look of concern for her, the tears she'd intended to fake felt all too real. All the emotions she'd tried to keep bottled up since she left the hotel, were threatening to spill over and she was certain once the dam was breached there would be no holding them back.

Her lip started to tremble and she winced slightly as he reached out to remove her glasses.

"Oh my god Katniss, what happened? Who did this?"

But she couldn't answer; she was incapable of getting her words out whilst trying to hold back her tears.

He wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders, guiding her into the house and she found herself leaning into his warmth that seemed to promise the comfort she so desperately craved.

He led her through the open lounge where Joséphine sat, watching them pass with a furious stare.

He sat her down on the same bed that only last night they had happily shared.

"Wait here," he said. She heard the raised voices from the other room, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Peeta returned moments later, red in the face and carrying her suitcase.

"I should go," she sniffed "this was a mistake."

"If you had anywhere else to go you wouldn't be here," he stated.

She let out a sob she could no longer contain and he came to sit beside her on the bed. "It's okay," he said, "I've spoken to Jo and she said you're welcome to stay."

"Really?"

He laughed gently, "Well perhaps not welcome, but at least tolerated."

He lifted her chin to take a good look at her face, "Have you been to the police?" She shook her head adamantly. "No, I can't." LeBlanc's prominent position in the ministry of culture meant any charges would be highly publicized. She couldn't risk being labeled as a little troublemaker or she'd never stand a chance of meeting someone.

"Okay," he said taking her hand reassuringly, "but you'll have to go to the hospital. I think you may need stitches."

Grabbing her suitcase he dropped it on the bed and started to unzip it. Smiling kindly in response to her questioning look. "I thought you might want to change, you're a little over dressed."

She looked down at the dress she had been wearing since last night and managed a small smile in return as she nodded. Peeta flipped open the case with a surprised "Oh!" When she looked she saw the reason, her tears forgotten for the moment as she tipped the entire contents of her case out on the bed desperately searching through the items to discover that only one bra and two pairs of knickers had missed being shredded. LeBlanc had taken a knife or scissors to everything else. All her beautiful clothes were ruined. It was the final straw to an awful day and she found herself clutching her favourite dress and burying her face in it as she cried.

She felt Peeta gently place his hand on her shoulder. "I'll see if Jo has something you can borrow."

She was pretty sure she heard Joséphine's angry exclamation of, 'You have got to be kidding!' from the other room. But when Peeta returned he was carrying a pair of jeans and possibly the ugliest sweater she had ever seen. She was quite sure that Joséphine had lent it to her on purpose.

When Peeta helped her to stand and unzipped her dress, there was none of the sensuality of the previous night. Instead, his hands were perfunctory yet gentle as if undressing a child. She noticed that he avoided looking directly at her as he handed her the sweater and jeans. They weren't a bad fit although she had to fold up the bottoms of the jeans, Joséphine being a little taller than herself.

The only shoes she had were her heels so she slipped them back on and followed Peeta. Joséphine was still in the lounge and although Katniss avoided looking at her she felt her watchful eyes on her. She couldn't hate Joséphine for defending Peeta, any good friend would do the same, but it didn't mean she had to like her.

Peeta drove her to the hospital and waited with her, for the two hours before she was seen, all in relative silence. The opposite to their almost non-stop chatter the evening before.

The doctor gave her a shot against infection and then one to numb the pain before giving her a couple of butterfly stitches. A nurse asked if Peeta could step outside with her for a moment, and once he was gone the doctor informed her that he had to ask how she got the injury. "I already told you I tripped and fell on the table".

"I'm not an idiot" he said, "I've been in this job long enough to spot the difference between an innocent fall and domestic violence." His eyes darted to outside the curtain and she understood he meant Peeta.

"God no!" she corrected him defensively, Peeta had done nothing to deserve the unfair judgment. "It wasn't Peeta. It was someone else, but that's over now and he won't get a chance to do it again."

The doctor nodded although it was clear he wasn't entirely convinced. Giving her directions to take ibuprofen for the headache and to come back if it got worse or she vomited. And then, as they were leaving, he fixed Peeta with a critical look and told him to keep an eye on her overnight.

The villa was dark and empty when they returned, Joséphine was obviously out not having stuck around for their return.

"Do you want something to eat?" Despite the fact she hadn't eaten all day, she just felt tired and sick. She shook her head.

"I just want to lie down."

He followed her back to his room and she flopped down on the bed closing her eyes. "You really should at least have a drink," he persisted gently. "When was the last time you ate?"

She shook her head unsure.

"Look, why don't you get changed and I'll fetch you something."

She had changed into the t-shirt and boxer briefs he'd laid out for her and crawled under the covers, already starting to doze, when he returned.

She honestly hadn't wanted food until the second she smelled it and then it seemed she couldn't eat - what was undoubtedly the most delicious croque monsieur she had ever tasted - fast enough. He looked pleased to see her eating and when she was finished took the empty plate from her, to hand her the mug. She inhaled deeply before sipping at the hot chocolate. It was delicious and comforting, she could taste that he'd stirred a little cream into it just as her mother used to do as a treat when she and Primrose were little. She felt a sudden pang of longing for home and simpler times. The inevitable effort required to maintain the necessary lies about her life meant she hadn't felt comfortable spending any length of time at home for years, but she realized now how much she missed her mother.

She tried to sniff back the tears, but she was too tired to fight them. Everything was falling apart, what was she going to do? She'd never felt so alone, the only person who cared enough to help her was a complete stranger. Perhaps if he knew her better, he wouldn't be so keen either. And she'd been so horrid to him that morning. The thought of his body curled in on itself, hugging his knees to his chest in response to her outrage made her feel ashamed. She'd been such a bitch, yet he was still being nice to her.

She let out a pitiful sob, despite trying to suppress it.

"Hey come on, it's going to be okay." He said throwing an arm gently round her shoulders and she let her head fall to his chest.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Just a nice guy I guess." He said lightly, probably intending his comment to alleviate her anguish. But it just made her feel more wretched about the way she'd treated him and compounded the overwhelming sense of disappoint and self-pity she already felt.

Last night had been so perfect, why couldn't it have been true? Peeta was being so kind to her, but it wasn't enough.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He let her stay curled up on his chest, gently stroking soothing circles on her back until she must have started to fall asleep again. She was vaguely aware of him trying to extract himself from her hold, but as he did she was hit with a sudden irrational panic at the loss of his secure arm about her.

He woke her again in the night, this time she felt him struggle and moan, an agonizing pained noise that frightened her. She couldn't see him, but when she reached out to stroke his face it felt as it were contorted, his eyes screwed shut in torment. He called out something else in a sorrowful voice but she couldn't quite catch it, though she was sure it was somebody's name that he cried.

"Sshh it's me, it's Katniss," she reassured him and he repeated her name in a relieved whisper. She wrapped her arms around him as he rested his head on her chest and stroked his head, soothing them both back into sleep.

When she woke again it was morning and she was alone.

* * *

Croque monsieur is the French equivalent of a ham and cheese toasted sandwich (only I think its baked). Apparently the secret is in the béchamel sauce. Whatever they're delicious!


	6. Chapter 6

**PART SIX**

Peeta moved about the kitchen on autopilot. Once the ingredients were measured out he could practically do the rest in his sleep, and that's exactly what he needed this morning, to go through the motions without a thought, and lose himself in the actions.

That way he could try to ignore the turmoil of thoughts and emotions that were churning in his head, and not think about the things he had done to bring himself to this point.

Because for the second time, in as many days he'd woken up with a stranger in his bed. A beautiful, incredibly sexy stranger lying in his bed and … _Merde_! It was thoughts like _that_ which were exactly why he needed to keep himself busy this morning.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying at the same time to squeeze out the memory that played out in his head of her smile, the mischievous glint in her playful eyes and the sound of her laughing voice as they'd teased each other on the taxi ride to the villa.

He groaned, shaking his head. Thinking about that evening and thinking about _her_ in that way was just asking for trouble. She was a gold-digger, she'd all but admitted as much to him. When she'd found out he wasn't what she was looking for she had made it perfectly clear that their night together had been a mistake and none of it had been real.

And feeling ashamed of what he'd done, he had been all too willing to blame it on alcohol and chalk it up as a drunken mistake as well, especially after her brutal rejection. But the truth was he could have told her he wanted to be alone at any point that evening but he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to.

He couldn't remember exactly who had been the one to suggest they come back to the villa, whether it had been Katniss or him. Either way he knew he hadn't wanted the evening to end, he had wanted to be with her. He honestly hadn't been thinking past that night and it had been nice not to have to. To spend one night free from his responsibilities and the guilt of the past and to just enjoy living in the moment, and it had felt magnificent. He was just stupid to think there wouldn't be any consequences.

Jo certainly hadn't held back on telling him what a colossal mistake she felt he'd made by letting Katniss take advantage of his gullible generosity when she'd turned up at the villa again last night. But he was no fool, he knew Katniss was using him for a place to stay. Although he'd initially been angered by her sheer audacity to come to him for help after what she'd said that morning, he also knew he couldn't turn her away. The woman who had appeared at his door last night was not the vivacious, confident woman whose company he had enjoyed only the evening before. This woman had been vulnerable and fragile, leaving him with no doubt that the tears she'd tried to hold back were real. It was clear she had nowhere else to go. So how could he turn her away?

But with her reappearance last night he found himself recalling all the things that had first attracted him to her. So that he was now hiding in the kitchen battling to ignore the thoughts that there were other reasons he had wanted to be with her other than just drunken lust. Because if he let his mind wander he would find himself considering what it was about Katniss that had made being with her feel so right and that had made him want her in a way he had never realistically considered with anyone before except his wife. And those thoughts were very quickly followed by a deep-seated feeling of guilt.

Peeta stirred his finger in the flour to make a little well before pouring in the water and yeast. He automatically put his right hand to his left to remove his wedding band, before starting the process of mixing and kneading, just as he'd done hundreds of times before. He looked down at his hand in surprise when he found nothing there. He looked about franticly, his moment of panic subsiding when he saw his ring lying on the windowsill above the sink. He remembered taking it off before he baked the other day, he must not have put it back on. He often took it off at work, but he never forgot to put it back on at the end of the day. What had happened to him that he not only forgot to put it back on, but that he hadn't even noticed?

"Peeta?" He turned to find Joséphine watching him with concern. "Is everything all right?

He gave a strained smiled and nodded, blinking back the tears he realized had formed as he did so.

"You've done nothing wrong, you know that don't you?" Joséphine continued and he wondered whether he was so very easy to read.

"Then why do I feel such a rat, Jo? Like I've cheated on her?" he managed in a hollow voice.

"You know that's not true. Margot wouldn't blame you. Christ Peeta, no one's expecting you to live like a monk…just next time try to make a wiser choice. Think with your head instead of your dick, alright?"

Usually he appreciated Joséphine's bluntness, there had been plenty of times when her candidness had been refreshing, especially when others were tiptoeing around him too afraid to upset him. But he wasn't in the mood for it this morning.

"We…I didn't choose this. It just happened."

"Oh Peeta," Joséphine eyed him with pity. "You might have fallen into the other night without a thought, but I'm pretty sure she selected you. I've seen her type a million times. Women like that don't care about a wedding ring. They used to swarm around my father, he practically dripped with gold-diggers. They made my mother's life a misery. Your little friend in there knew exactly what she was looking for and decided you fit the bill. She saw an easy target when she spotted a guy in an expensive suit who looked lonely." He winced a little at her description, but she was right. It didn't matter that he kept himself busy or that his family kept him from being alone, he was lonely.

Joséphine was about to say something else but she stopped as Katniss entered the kitchen.

Peeta was marginally aware of Joséphine exclaiming, "Jesus! What are you wearing? Those had better not be my jeans!" But he was so distracted by Katniss' legs extending from the shortest pair of cut-off jeans he'd ever seen, that honestly Joséphine could have said anything.

Katniss chose to ignore Joséphine's scorn and explained with some degree of pride that she had managed to salvage a pair of her jeans turning them into shorts. Peeta swallowed thickly as he thought how those toned, tanned legs had been wrapped around him only a couple of nights ago.

Jo gave an unimpressed huff. "Well just find yourself something decent to wear before the neighbours see you. You look like a hooker, oh wait you…"

"I thought I'd cook dinner tonight," Peeta interrupted quickly, "I'm heading to the supermarket later, do you want to come?" He asked Katniss, "You'll be able to grab a few clothes from there." He wasn't sure if he imagined the slight wrinkle of her nose at the suggestion, but she nodded all the same.

Joséphine gave him an unimpressed shake of her head before grabbing her mug of coffee and leaving them alone.

Peeta was part relieved to escape any more of Joséphine's cutting remarks and part nervous at being left alone with Katniss, especially considering the direction his thoughts seemed to take when he was around her.

He turned his attention back to the dough as Katniss helped herself to a coffee. "What are you making?" she asked coming to stand at his elbow.

"Bread." He answered not looking up, continuing his attempt to concentrate on kneading and not on her legs.

"Oh right. Of course." He thought of the morning after and the way she'd spat it back at him after her horrified discovery of his profession. He'd never been made to feel embarrassed of his job before. But this morning there was no scorn, she looked awkward, nervous even. It didn't seem to fit with the girl he met before. He wondered if last night had hit her hard in more than just a physical sense, or perhaps he didn't know the real her at all.

"Do you want a go?" he offered.

"Huh?" she frowned, confused.

"At kneading. I've always found it excellent stress relief, it clears my mind and relaxes me. And if that fails you could pretend its someone's face and knock the crap out of it."

She smirked and nodded. He stepped back to let her get in front of the already worked dough. She stuck her fingers into it spreading and then retracting them, a little of the dough sticking to them. She turned to him, "I get the feeling that's not right," she said holding up her fingers.

He shook his head and laughed gently. "You need to use the heel of your palm like this," He said miming the action. It would be easier to step behind her and guide her hands in the right movement, but he honestly didn't think that was a good idea. Not the state his mind was in this morning. He closed his eyes groaning inwardly. He felt like he was acting noticeably awkwardly because he didn't want to touch her and guilty as hell because he did want to.

"Am I doing it right?"

He opened his eyes to find her looking back over her shoulder at him, "Uh, yeah yeah that's good." He answered hurriedly.

He quickly balled the dough up placing it in a bowl to rise. Then, wiping his hands on a cloth, he slipped the wedding ring that still sat on the windowsill, back on his hand. Hoping the familiar weight of it on his finger would bring him back to reality and remind him exactly who he really was.

He turned to find Katniss staring at him, her face aghast.

"You're married?!"

He hadn't thought she'd been looking, not that he had anything to hide. It just felt a little deceitful as if he had been purposefully hiding the truth from her. Just another thing to add to the list of things to feel guilty about, he thought ruefully.

"Widower," he said with discomfort, even after three years the term still felt alien on his tongue and uneasy to say.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said.

He shook his head dismissing her apology as unnecessary and quickly steering the conversation away by asking. "Shall we go?"

…

Peeta saw Katniss' eyes linger on the clothing isles of the out of town hypermarché. She hadn't mentioned buying clothes again, but he knew she must be desperate for some essentials and so he turned the trolley down the isle.

She hesitated behind him, and he turned to find out why she hadn't followed. She stood looking uncomfortable, and he suddenly remembered her reaction in the kitchen when he'd suggested buying clothes at the supermarché. He presumed the clothes here weren't exactly up to her usual standard. He suddenly felt stupidly naive for even suggesting it.

"I…er… thought you might want some essentials to tide you over…you know… until you go shopping… properly." He offered awkwardly.

"Shopping properly." She repeated blankly.

"Yeah, I guess you usually shop at more exclusive venues than this," he added, gesturing to their surroundings with an embarrassed shrug.

"Um," she shifted uneasily glancing at the clothes racks about them and he got the feeling she was avoiding his eye. "Its just that…" she fiddled with the end of her hair as she looked up at him, "I don't actually have any money."

"Oh right." He nodded in considered understanding as if that was an expected statement when truly he was shocked by her revelation. He had expected her to have money. But he suddenly realized what a dumb presumption that had been. If she was a gold-digger, as Jo surmised, it wouldn't have been Katniss' money that filled her suitcase full of designer labels. And if she'd had money of her own she wouldn't have been so keen to bag him when she thought he was wealthy.

But her demeanour confused him. As she stood there nervously twisting the end of her hair, waiting for him to say something he considered that the girl Jo had convinced him Katniss was should have been much more comfortable and skilled at asking him to buy her what she needed. But instead she looked uncomfortably vulnerable.

He knew Jo would think he was insane and was sure to berate him loudly if she found out what he'd done. She would say the vulnerable, lost little girl act was simply that, an act put on to get him to pay for the clothes, and perhaps she was right. But he didn't care, right now Katniss just looked like a girl who needed his help.

"Its okay, get what you need and I'll pay for it with the groceries."

"No, really. You don't have to buy me anything." She said with a shake of her head.

"You can't live in those forever." He pointed out. She was currently wearing the tiny cut offs with the same heels she'd worn the evening he'd met her. If he was honest he'd be perfectly happy if she continued to wear the same outfit, it made her legs look sexy as hell. But then that was the exact problem, that and the fact it was likely to continue to provoke Jo's acid tongue.

He saw Katniss' indecision. He knew she needed to take his offer, but he also saw she wasn't sure she should. "You can pay me back later if it makes you feel any better." He offered.

Her brow furrowed as she considered the bargain, before nodding. 'Thank you."

"I have stuff to pick up for dinner so I'll come back and find you when I've finished." As he wheeled the trolley off she called him back. "Peeta, I was just wondering...um...what's my budget?"

"Just get what you need Katniss, it's okay."

Although, as he picked up the ingredients for dinner, he found himself worrying what a girl with expensive tastes like her would consider to be essentials. He didn't want to face the embarrassment of having to ask her to put something back. He was surprised and relieved to see she only had a few items in her hands when he returned to her isle. He had already resigned himself to the knowledge he wouldn't have the heart to ask her to put anything back and was bracing himself to foot the bill.

She had selected a pair of low sandals, a summer dress, a pair of jeans and a blouse. "Don't you need anything else?" He questioned.

"No, this is fine honestly." She assured him.

But he frowned. "Surely you need underwear, you only have one bra?" It was a simple enough statement, but to his chagrin he could feel his ears turning pink and hoped she didn't notice. He was surprised by her choice of three basic white cotton bra and underwear sets, quite unlike the lace ones she'd worn on their first night together and he quickly changed the topic to take his mind off the image.

"And what about a swim suit. You can hardly hang out in Nice without a decent bikini." She conceded and picked one out, the tiny scraps of orange material unfortunately doing nothing to ease the growing trouble he was having keeping his mind off thoughts of her body.

…..

"Do you want any help cooking?" she asked him, as they unpacked the groceries.

"Sure," he replied surprised she would even offer. "You can chop this onion." He said tossing it to her.

When he looked over five minutes later she was still struggling with the onion.

"You've never sliced an onion before, real or not real?" He smirked.

"Not real! It was just a while ago and with slightly shorter nails," she said wriggling her fingertips at him to display the flawless painted nails. "I used to cook for my little sister all the time when I was younger, when mum was working late."

"Not real." He teasingly answered.

"Oi!" she laughed. "That wasn't a question. I'm actually pretty good at making desserts or at least I used to be."

"Perhaps you should make one tonight, it might sweeten Jo up."

"That is unfortunately, definitely going to be not real."

He smiled, admitting she was probably right but persuaded her to make dessert anyway. The only recipe she said she could remember by heart was for Iles Flottantes, but he ended up teasing her mercilessly when it turned out she couldn't remember the recipe for either the meringues or the crème anglaise.

With dinner in the oven and dessert complete, he quickly made some caramelized spun sugar for decoration. He was aware of her watching him as he criss-crossed the molten sugar back and forth on some greaseproof paper, to form a weaved construction, bending and molding it quickly whilst still warm until it resembled little boat shapes to float on the custard sauce.

"And here was I thinking you were just going to drizzle it about on top," Katniss said with a certain amount of awe. "These are amazing. Joséphine can't help but be impressed by these."

He grinned, enjoying her praise yet disturbed by the knowledge that he had gone to the extra effort more for Katniss' benefit than his friend's.

It shouldn't feel so comfortable to be with her or so easy to talk to her as it was – not after everything that had happened – but it was. He felt more alive with her than he had in years and it made him question whether he'd been going through the motions living with the ghost of the past for too long. Only for that thought to bring on a fresh new wave of guilt.

But when he caught Katniss distractedly singing softly to herself as she helped put away the cooking ingredients, his guilt was forgotten and remained so until long after dinner.

When Joséphine retired for bed, having drunk about three glasses of wine too many, he suddenly felt a stifling awkwardness fall over him. He wasn't quite sure why but he felt uncomfortable bringing up the subject of going to bed, it wasn't as if he was planning on suggesting they sleep together again and he was certain Katniss wouldn't be expecting him to. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he suspected the reason was that deep down he was disappointed that he wouldn't be sharing a bed with her tonight.

"I … er… I think your dessert went down well." He said trying to fill what seemed like a deafening silence to him.

"A lot better before she realized it was made by me, you mean." Katniss smiled.

And then she reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes, and he swallowed hard, all the moisture in his mouth suddenly seeming to disappear. She stretched across to place a gentle almost non-existent kiss to his lips.

"Wh…what are you doing?" he stammered in shock.

"Ssh," she quietened him as she slipped to the floor before him on the sofa. He let her spread his legs a little as she settled between them. He shook his head as she unfastened his belt and eased the zipper down, but he didn't make any other attempt to stop her and he lifted his hips compliantly so she could ease his trousers and underwear down. The feather-light touch of her fingertips stroked his already hard length, before her tongue circled his tip, causing him to swear and his hips to buck.

"Why?" he managed.

"I just want to show you how grateful I am," she purred looking up through her lashes at him with coy demureness and he watched her run her tongue up his length before swirling around the head again.

"Grateful?"

"Just my little way of paying you back for all you've done for me."

_You can pay me back later if it makes you feel any better. _His words from earlier echoed in his head but he hadn't meant it like this. It took every last ounce of willpower he had to push her away by her shoulders rather than weave his fingers in her hair and hold her closer. "Stop it."

She sat back on her heals looking at him in disbelief and confusion. "You don't want me to?"

"Not to say thank you, no."

"Is this because of your wife?" She asked, her eyes noticeably lingering on the gold band glinting on his left hand.

"What!? No. It's because you shouldn't associate someone doing something nice for you with meaning you automatically owe them sexual favours. I don't know what you're used to, but I didn't buy you clothes because I expected you to offer me something like this back in return. It's not the reason I helped you."

He watched her lip tremble ever so slightly before her jaw set and with a scowl she got up from the floor. "I'm tired," she announced, "I'm going to bed."

He found himself hesitating outside her bedroom door wondering if she were still awake and whether he should try to talk to her, but decided against it and opened the door to the guest room across the hallway instead.

He lay in bed staring at the darkened ceiling, trying hard not to think about her. Trying to force himself to think about Margot and his responsibilities at home, not least of all his son. It was plain stupidity to torture himself thinking about Katniss, especially when she was unlikely to be thinking of him in the same way. After all, if she had any other option she wouldn't be here. But he couldn't shake the image of her looking up at him or the feeling of her tongue on his skin.

And it was most definitely her that he found himself thinking of as he brought himself relief from the aching throb that he seemed to have been suffering from practically all day in her presence.

…

Peeta's dreams always started the same way, something so mundane it could be real life. A day at the bakery or perhaps breakfast with his family, a scene so realistic he could believe the accident had never happened at all.

Then they always ended the same. Watching Margot's broken body lying in a hospital bed, him being the one to sign the papers and take responsibility to turn off the life support. Her eyes flying open at the last moment to curse him for giving up on her, for letting her die and then his anguished cry of loss and guilt.

Only tonight, instead of the cold hard lifeless body that he held to him in his nightmare her body was soft and forgiving, her arms warm and comforting as her breath whispered _not real, not real_ against his ear. And in his shame he realized it was not his wife's name that he whispered back in relief.

* * *

Big thank you to kismet4891 for all her suggestions and help.

If you're wondering what the dessert is there's a picture on my tumblr - loupeeuk dot tumblr dot com /post/58447557724/iles-flottantes-floating-islands (warning there's not much else on my tumblr account)

p.s thanks for the reviews - I really appreciate them as its the only way I have of knowing there's anyone out there reading this at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**PART SEVEN**

The tormented cries that had woken her in the night were worse than those of the first night she'd spent with Peeta. She had rushed across the hallway without hesitation only to stop when she reached his bedside, suddenly unsure whether to reach out to him. But when he'd called out again there had been no question of standing by to watch. She had wrapped her arms about him and just like the first night he'd clung to her. His screams turning to sobs as she cradled his head to her chest whispering "Not real Peeta, it's just a dream. Its not real." And in response when his tears had faded she'd heard her name and it made her certain she'd done the right thing to come to him.

But when she'd woken just before dawn, tangled in his arms she wasn't so sure. Lying here their bodies entwined like this, having brought him the comfort he'd needed in the night, providing protection from his nightmares, it seemed too personal. She feared she had over stepped an invisible line, she was getting in too deep.

She had to remind herself what she was doing here. What had happened between them that first night was just sex, but this felt more intimate and that was dangerous. She couldn't afford to let herself develop any feelings for this guy. It wouldn't do her any good. So she slipped silently from his bed, made herself coffee and sat on the terrace watching the sun come up.

When Joséphine joined her a few hours later, she was surprised to find her alone and learn that Peeta was still asleep. "He's usually up before the crack of dawn," she explained.

"He had a rough night." Katniss responded.

Joséphine nodded with understanding, "I heard."

"What are they about his nightmares?"

"You should ask him that question if you really want to know." Joséphine answered curtly. Leaning on the balustrade she took a final long pull on her cigarette before stubbing it out and turning to face Katniss, studying her critically as if sizing her up, before she carried on. "I tried to calm him once, when he first got here, but I couldn't get through to him. I don't think anyone has since they first began, so I just let the dreams run their course from then on. Somehow you've managed what other's haven't been able to do, there's clearly something about you that seems to be what he needs." She said thoughtfully, without a hint of jealously.

"There's nothing special about me, believe me."

"So you keep saying, but there must be something. I'm pretty sure you're the first woman he's been with since Margot died. Did he tell you that?" Josephine raised her eyebrows in question.

Katniss didn't respond. It was ridiculous considering the circumstances, but she didn't want to admit that Peeta hadn't trusted her enough to share that with her, or for Josephine to know her presumption that he wouldn't was correct. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to smile passively at Josephine, determined that the other woman wouldn't guess her real emotions. Because Katniss had experienced a worrying little tingle of delight at the information. A pleasing possessive pride at the thought of Peeta being all hers that was almost painful to quash and turn her back on. But she couldn't forget that she wanted more than he had to offer her and he certainly deserved more than she could give.

"So you see there must be something about you, mustn't there?" Josephine carried on, "Its just a pity he made such poor choice isn't it, that out of everyone, he managed to choose someone who couldn't see his true value."

Katniss spoke up as Joséphine turned to head back in doors. "I don't blame you for hating me and I know you didn't do it for my sake, but I wanted to tell you I am truly grateful to you for letting me stay. Peeta's very lucky to have a friend like you. Make sure you look after him."

"That sounds a lot like a goodbye?" Joséphine said with a questioning look. "You're right I didn't do it for your benefit…and if you're planning on leaving, you should do it sooner rather than later before you have a chance to hurt him anymore than you already have. But don't worry, Peeta does have a lot of friends and family, people who care about him and treat him the way he deserves, he'll be just fine with out you."

Katniss let Joséphine leave without responding. She could have told her she didn't want to hurt Peeta, how she regretted the way she'd spoken to him that first morning. How she feared her anger had been fuelled by a disappointment that was about more than just money. Just as his rejection of her advances last night, had stung for reasons other than just pride.

It seemed entirely in keeping with what she'd learnt of him so far, that Peeta hadn't expected anything back in return for the kindness he'd shown her. But his decency had still surprised her. It felt like a long time since any one had treated her with even half as much respect and it made her question what kind of person she had become that she no longer expected them to.

Neither did she choose to tell Joséphine that she was growing increasingly worried that if she didn't put some distance between them there was a risk he wouldn't be the only one getting hurt when she left. But what was the point in saying any of that to Joséphine? It wouldn't change a thing.

She sat staring out over the water until Peeta found her. He placed a fresh mug of coffee in front of her. Black with no sugar, she hadn't realized he'd even noticed how she took it.

He made no mention of last night and she wondered if he even remembered her coming to him.

"I thought you might like to rectify your shameful track record and visit one of the city's fine museums with me today."

He had such a sweet nervous smile, as if expecting her to refuse that she couldn't turn him down, choosing to ignore the inner voice that was screaming a warning that this was not a good way to put distance between them.

He took her to the Musée des Beaux Arts. Although she recognized the names of the more famous artists there were many others she knew nothing of, but it didn't matter being with Peeta was like having her own private guide.

"How come a baker knows so much about this stuff? Do you have a secret art history degree or something?"

"No. I just always make time to come to one of the galleries when I'm here."

"Do you come to Nice often?" She asked not sure whether she feared or hoped for a positive answer.

"No. Not anymore." It was all he said before quickly drawing her attention to one of his favourite works.

She found his enthusiasm for the art more captivating than the paintings themselves and she couldn't help but get caught up in his passion. Finding herself studying his animated expression more than the art work themselves as he explained the styles and techniques the artists had used. Afterward, they walked along the promenade. They bought a baguette, split and ate it spread with cheese between them as they sat on a bench in a leafy square swigging water from a shared bottle. Whilst they watched the old men enjoying an afternoon's match of pétanque.

As the afternoon lengthened, they walked back around the bay in the direction of Joséphine's villa. Katniss wanted to ask how his friend had come by her money - whether it was earned, inherited or married - but she didn't want him to think money was all she was interested in.

They stopped at a bar, sitting outside under the shade of a parasol. Peeta ordered a beer and she said she'd have one too. It had been years since she'd drunk beer, LeBlanc felt it was vulgar and unfeminine for women to drink it, but it seemed right and comfortable sharing one now with Peeta. They chatted about this and that, inconsequential things, nothing of any importance, and certainly not the glaring questions that awaited an answer. Such as when he was returning home and what she was going to do then. They ended up ordering again and again and then getting food, staying to watch the sunset.

And all the time a growing voice inside her told her that perhaps this could be her future, a happy, comfortable, simple life if she allowed it, and if he wanted her of course. When they made it back the villa was dark, a note from Joséphine in the kitchen explaining she was out for the evening and if the date went well for the whole night too.

It was silly - they had been together all day unchaperoned but now it felt awkward to be alone. As if unwittingly they too had been on a date and were now waiting for the other to take the next inevitable step but she swore it wouldn't be her, not after last night. In fact she told herself it would be best to avoid the situation all together, so she brought up a subject guaranteed to dampen the mood.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but how did your wife die?"

He almost looked like he'd been expecting the question. "She died three years ago, she was knocked off her bike and suffered a brain haemorrhage. The hospital said it would probably have been prevented if she'd been wearing a helmet. The irony is she always wore one except when she was on the way back from the hairdresser's. She said it seemed pointless to pay them to style her hair and then stick a helmet straight on. Any other day and she probably would still be alive." He gave a sad smile at the thought. "I didn't mean to lie to you…the other evening that is… I didn't intentionally leave my ring off. I'd been baking and I must have forgotten to put it back on. I've never done that before." He looked so sincere she had no reason to doubt him, but she was saddened by the ironic serendipity of the whole situation. Their meeting was a result of a string of senseless coincidences that should never have happened.

"Is that what the nightmares are about?" She asked, even though she feared her question was too intrusive.

"Partly." He took a deep breath. "When Margot was in hospital, it reached a point where the doctors concluded she was never going to improve. She was never going to wake up or breathe on her own again. But it had to be my decision to turn the life support off. I had to be the one, as next of kin, to sign the papers, to decide it was time to let her go, to kill my wife and leave my son without a mother. How can I ever be sure that I did the right thing? That if I had waited just one more day, week or month that perhaps she would have woken up? You read of these miracle cases where people defy all the odds and recover. I have to live with the fear that I didn't wait long enough. That's what my nightmares are about."

Katniss didn't know what to say, she wasn't used to consoling a man with just words. She placed her hand on his, "You have to trust that the doctors were right. They wouldn't have misled you. It must have been a horrible, painful decision but you have to believe you did the right thing. You can't continue to doubt and blame yourself, for your and your son's sake. You can't let him grow up with the knowledge that his father blames himself for his mother's death – it's just not fair to make him live amongst that guilt."

"I know you're right. I've told myself the same thing a thousand times but I just can't shake the dreams. It wasn't so bad when Henri was younger, but now he's at the age where he questions everything, it's getting harder to hide the truth of my nightmares from him. It's the reason I came away, he's staying with is grandparents for a while. Jo was Margot's roommate at college and she's been a good friend since she died. She offered me a bolt-hole whenever I needed it, but it's the first time I've been back to Nice since Margot died.

"You're lucky to have such a good friend." Katniss said sincerely, unable not to feel a little envious, wishing she had a similar friend to turn for help.

"What will you do after this?" He asked, as if he'd guessed her thoughts.

"I don't know? Something will come along," she bluffed falsely upbeat. "It always does."

"_Someone_ else you mean. Like the man who gave you these." He said regarding her bruises. "Why do it? Why choose to pin all your hopes on hooking a rich man. Is money really so important? If I said come with me, that I could give you a job, a home, security would you choose that instead?"

For a moment she entertained the thought. The simple life she'd fantasised about that afternoon. Working side-by-side with Peeta in a quiet alpine town, the promise of something more substantial developing between them. But he hadn't said that, he hadn't asked her if she would choose _him_ instead.

"No." She said, shaking her head. "I'd like to be able to say I have a noble reason for my choice, like supporting a sick mother or funding my younger sister's study. But my mother works hard and is content with her modest life and my sister won a funded scholarship to cover most of her college fees. I send them money when I can, but its not why I chose to be with LeBlanc or the other lovers before him. They offered me the best of everything - the finest hotels, the most expensive restaurants, entry to exclusive parties. And I like it. I like the gifts they give me, jewelry, clothes, holidays to places others only dream of being able to afford. There's no going back to an ordinary life now I've tasted this one."

He looked sadly at her, but she got the feeling he pitied her, "I hope you find what you're looking for Katniss. And when you do its as sweet as you hoped it would be."

They sat on the terrace for a while longer, but the atmosphere between them felt heavy with a shared sense of their time together coming to any end.

He announced he was tired just as she was going to say she was going to call it a night.

They hovered at her doorway saying good night, but neither stepping away until finally she made a firm decision that she needed to bring the evening to a close.

"Good night Peeta, thank you for a really lovely day." She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder as she leant in to kiss him good night on the cheek. But when she made to pull away he placed his hand on top of hers stopping her. She felt herself freeze as if watching him in slow motion as he bent his head to kiss her.

It wasn't like before, the affects of the afternoon's beers had long worn off. There wasn't a hasty drunken lust-fueled need to tear each other's clothes off, this was something different.

As Peeta slowly walked her back into the room she felt his hand slide to her lower back holding her close to him, and she felt a tremor of anticipation course through her. He guided her toward the bed until she felt the edge against the back of her legs, but he didn't lower her down. Instead he kept her held to him as he kissed her softly, a tantalizing taste of what she knew he was capable of. His mouth moving to her neck leaving gentle kisses in his wake as he travelled to her shoulder, slipping aside the thin straps of her summer dress to continue his journey. Simple, gentle kisses, yet her skin felt like it was burning beneath the cool trail they left in the night air, her body humming with arousal.

His hands found the zipper at the back of her dress and releasing it let the material fall to the floor. His hands skimmed over her bare back and she pressed herself to him. His touch was not so gentle as he grabbed her ass, pulling her closer still, his kisses growing harder and more forceful. His hand slipping between their bodies to cup the thin cotton of her underwear and she swore as his fingers dragged the material aside and sank into her. Moaning his name, her hands clung to his upper arms as his fingers then moved to circle her clit helping to relieve some of the powerful urgency she felt building inside her yet intensifying the desperate need at the same time.

She writhed and swore again under his touch noting the blaze in his eyes and the gratified twitch at the corner of his mouth as she did so. He liked hearing her lose control. In another situation she'd have used this knowledge to her advantage, swearing more, faking it to turn her lover on. Katniss had made sure in the past to be vocally convincing during sex so that her partners were left with no doubt that she was enjoying herself, whether it was the truth or not. But there was no need to pretend with Peeta, every cry, every sound that she uttered was genuine and uncensored. As his fingers moved to dip back inside her, she moaned again, her voice low and hoarse as she confessed just how badly she wanted him.

If he'd reacted to her swearing it was nothing compared to the triumphant look he bore now at the sound of her plea.

He pushed her down on the bed as he stripped off his t-shirt and she feasted on the sheer physical sight of him as he towered above her, a thrill of primal attraction running through her. She sat to quickly rid herself of her remaining clothing, before helping him to unbuckle his belt as he toed off his shoes. She hurriedly unfastened his trousers, pushing them from his thighs. Her hand palming the swell in his shorts, earning a moan of encouragement before she hooked her fingers in the waistband pulling his underwear down. She had an urge to finish what she'd started the other evening and dipped her head to trace him with the tip of her tongue. He gave another glorious groan of pleasure, that sent a surge of heat to her core, his fingers weaving in her hair as she took him deeply and this time it was him that swore, repeating the same exclaim of encouragement again and again. "Fuck Katniss." Until his hands on her shoulders pushed her back. They moved back across the bed slotting together naturally as he pushed inside her.

She raised her hips to his thrusts, urging him deeper and faster as her hands clung to the strong hard muscles of his backside. She liked the feeling of him moving under her palms as he thrust inside her. Tilting the angle of her hips so each passing movement took her in just the right way to make her cry out. Her mouth and then her teeth claimed his shoulder as she felt the pressure mounting until she bit down as she came. Peeta following behind moments later.

They clung to each other regaining their breath neither in a rush to separate. When they did finally move to lie side-by-side he pulled her into a gentle hug, kissing her lips softly.

Would it really be so awful to stay like this she pondered, to choose this life instead and to return to his home with him? But it wasn't just him she was choosing. He had a son, a business, in-laws. Was she willing to give up all her dreams - to play happy families, working all day in a hot bakery, to become a mother - for a man she'd known for barely a few days? But long after Peeta fell asleep, she lay awake picturing herself flanked either side by the blond haired Mellarks, father and son and the image didn't seem such a bad future.

When she woke in the night to go to the bathroom, she noticed she'd left her purse on the vanity. On a whim she checked her phone not really expecting anything, only to find a text message from Portia.

_Call me. Finn's in town on his yacht. Told him about you. Said come stay with him_ _he_ _has just what you need!_

She didn't know Finnick Odair that well but he and Portia were close, they used to hang out at the same nightclubs and parties looking for the same thing. Golden playboy Finn Odair had always been a hit with the older wealthier widows and he struck gold when he caught the eye of Marianne Cresta. Famous for her curves and free spirit, the original 1960s sex siren, had left behind a slew of lovers and husbands in her wake. She collected men just as she did the adornments they gave her. Her love of jewellery was legendary, collecting diamonds and jewels like souvenirs from the men who sought to tame her free spirit. She was still a beauty in her old age, already in her 60s when she met Finn. She chose to enjoy her last years in the arms of her bronzed toyboy, marrying him a couple of months before her cancer was diagnosed. Finn claimed he had no idea she was ill, but Portia said she was almost certain Marianne had known. Either way she made sure Finnick was looked after. She left him everything, her only son having died years ago from a drug over dose in his 30s.

Finn sold her vast jewellery collection raising millions, that together with the properties dotted around the world and the clever royalty system she had always insisted on for her movies, he was made an extremely rich man. And then it was the turn of the gigolo who'd sought the high life of the Côte d'Azur to be chased by the pretty little things hoping to get their claws into him. But he was smarter than that. There was always a party in swing on is yacht and plenty of beautiful distractions to fill his bed, but he never let himself get attached to anyone. To the point that Portia had speculated to Katniss that perhaps his relationship with Marianne hadn't been entirely all about her bank account.

It was with a heavy heart that Katniss left the blond haired baker asleep in bed. She fished his wallet from his jeans pocket and emptied it of all the notes it contained, replacing them with an I.O.U that simply said.

_I.O.U for everything. _

_Good luck Peeta Mellark, may you sleep well._

_Katniss._

Less than an hour later she walked down the gang way at the marina in Monaco. Finnick sat on the deck of the _Annie_ a drink in one hand, and a red head in the other. He greeted her as she stepped aboard. "Pussy Kat! Come and join the party, there's someone here you have to meet. I've told him all about you and he's dying to meet you."

As he steered her toward the small party that was gathered toward the stern, he whispered in her ear. "He's just been through a very messy divorce. He's feeling very wounded and desperately in need of some TLC, and for the right little sex kitten I'm pretty sure he'd be in the market for a new wife."

….

Peeta woke to silence. He could hear the birds wheeling over the ocean that lay beyond the curtains, somewhere there was a dog barking and the distant drone of a lawn mower. But inside the villa it was silent.

He didn't need to roll over, to see the empty pillow beside him, to know that she was gone.

Eventually he slipped on his underwear and trousers from where they had been discarded the night before and padded out to the terrace. He stood staring out over the view, it was beautiful here but it was time to go home. He missed Henri too much.

As he walked back into the lounge he saw his wallet lying on the coffee table. It was empty except for a few coins and a piece of paper. He read Katniss' note, folded it and returned it to his wallet. He wouldn't mention it to Jo, he knew exactly what she would have to say about it. But he didn't care that Katniss had _borrowed_ his cash, in return she'd given him his first nightmare free night in almost three years. He wished her luck too and sincerely hoped she slept safely wherever it was she laid her head tonight.

Wandering to the kitchen he washed his hands, slipping the band from his finger and placing it carefully on the windowsill, before starting the familiar process of measuring out the ingredients he needed for bread.

* * *

**Notes:**

So that chapter might not have ended exactly the way some of you may have liked - but don't give up all hope of an Everlark HAE.

I imagine Marianne Cresta as a cross between Brigitte Bardot and Elizabeth Taylor.

I would love you to leave me a review and let me know what you think - one word will do (ok, good, mediocre, boring, hot - its your choice!) its just nice to know whether anyone is still reading this stuff or whether I can give up and go back to watching Breaking Bad with my husband.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART EIGHT**

Katniss tossed aside the novel she was reading, she wasn't sure she could be bothered to read any more, it had started to bore her and she was pretty sure it wasn't going to reach a satisfactory ending. Reaching her arms above her head and pointing her toes she stretched out her body, admiring the way her cultivated tan was complemented perfectly by the orange bikini she wore. Despite costing a fraction of her other swimwear, the supermarket bikini seemed to suit her better than any other, or at least that was the reason she allowed herself to believe she preferred it.

The bright St. Bart's sunlight danced across the gently rippled surface of the aquamarine pool, its glare almost blinding on the white paved poolside. She gave a sigh, it was just too perfect here to be true.

Sliding her feet into her sandals and slipping a loose kaftan over her head, she crossed to the white villa in search of her husband.

The gold band she wore on her finger glinted in the sunlight as she reached to open the door. It was still new enough to feel oddly unfamiliar on her finger, and certainly not aged enough to lose its shine.

She kicked off her sandals at the door, letting the cool surface of the tiles soothe the heat of her skin.

She'd met Sven that first evening on Finn's boat. Just as Finn had said, the Swedish packaging heir had just come out of a very vicious and very lengthy divorce. The guy was a mess, partying to excess every night on the verge of collapse. "What he needs," Finn had coached in her ear, "is a strong woman to take him by the reigns and sort him out. Luckily for you, you're just his type."

"Sven," Finnick called out to the older man, "come and meet Kat."

"I told him you'd been in a car accident, by the way, you know to explain your bruises. I'm sure you'll be able to work the sympathy angle to your advantage." Finn whispered as Sven made his way over. The lie sent a shiver down her spine and she readily accepted a drink from the Swede to wash the feeling away.

It turned out the Swede did in fact have a type. He like tanned skin and dark hair, finding pleasure in the way it contrasted against his own pale colouring, gaining particular gratification from seeing her hair long wrapped around him. Sven himself so fair he almost bordered on albino, that it sometimes felt like she was living with a ghost.

She never let herself compare her husband to another fair skinned lover, one with golden hair. She never allowed herself to imagine it was that same man who moved above her, or whose body it was her hands caressed. And she never permitted herself to imagine for even a second what it would have been like to have made a different decision that day, if she had chosen to ignore Portia's text message. She never let herself think about him because what good would that do? She had made her choice and it had brought her everything she'd wanted, hadn't it?

Finn had been right, Sven had indeed been ready to marry again, eager to rub in the news of a new younger, sexier wife in his ex's face. Katniss knew she had done well for herself. Sven was an attractive man and for a 56 year old he had both an impressive physique and level of energy. With it came a voracious sexual appetite, which she soon discovered she was not sufficient to satisfy.

His first wife's grounds for divorce had been infidelity, and it didn't take Katniss long to realise that his habits were not going to change just because he was with her now. She soon became aware of the other women that flitted around him, always cast from the same mould. Dark, young, wide-eyed and innocent looking, exactly the same things that had drawn him to her. But she didn't care, it was her he always returned to and it was her that made sure he put a ring on her finger. But recently his indiscretions had become sloppier and less discrete, it was starting to become an embarrassment.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge she sipped it whilst looking out at the beautiful view. Yes, she'd made her decision and it had brought her everything she'd always desired, she had it all. An indulgent husband, a more than generous monthly allowance, wardrobes overflowing with designer labels and more jewellery that she could possibly want. Sven showered her in it. It was almost like a hobby for him, particularly admiring the way that emeralds looked against her bare skin, so much so she was practically dripping with the stuff to the point she was bored with receiving it.

She had no right to be bored, she finally had everything she'd wished for. But bored she was. Bored with holidaying and socializing, bored with parties and restaurants. She filled her hours with manicures and facials, sunbathing and shopping. But the pleasure and the distraction they offered was fleeting.

She was trapped in this beautiful world of boredom. Her husband was lavishly generous, but he was a fool. He was heir to the vast packaging empire, but his place on the board was a titular position only. The day to day running of the company left to those more qualified. Left in his hands, he would fritter the millions away in a couple of months. He had no concept of restraint, everything had to be done to excess. He always had to have the biggest, the loudest, the most expensive of everything. But still his foolishness had also helped her push through a very agreeable pre-nup.

She wandered to the other end of the villa where her husband was working, wondering if the maid was in that part of the building too. She'd hired the new maid only a month ago. The girl being incredibly thankful for the position and the exceptional pay rate. She was the kind of girl most wives would have avoided having near their husbands. Fresh faced and youthful, all big eyes and bee stung lips, long black hair and caramel skinned, with legs that never seemed to end and made her uniform a little shorter than it should be.

Just the sort of girl not to leave alone with your husband whilst you were out all day, the kind who was every new bride's nightmare.

When she found her husband's office empty Katniss continued her search to the far end of the building. As she reached the laundry room she distinctly heard the tell-tale grunts of her husband that she had become oh so familiar with. Silently cracking the door ajar, Katniss fished her phone from her pocket and snapped a few quick shots. The maid was laid back across the top of the dryer as he rammed into her, one hand kneading at her bare breast. She silently closed the door again, deciding to let them finish. She had the evidence she needed of his infidelity, she could send it to her lawyers later. She was pretty sure that after the messy extended court-case of his last divorce Sven would be more than willing to settle quickly and generously out of court. And then she would be free of this hollow life. She didn't want to spend one more second than she had to living in this prison pretending it was some kind of paradise.

She wandered back to the kitchen, looking through the well-stocked cupboards for something to eat. Their old maid used to cook incredible meals for them making everything from scratch and Katniss had been sad when she'd retired. She found herself staring at the bag of strong white bread flour that sat on the top shelf for a long time before reaching for it. Setting it on the counter she grabbed a cookery book, flipping through it until she found the simple recipe for basic bread.

* * *

Thank you so much to Kismet4891 for being such a star and betaing this.

And thank you so much to everyone who left a review for the last chapter. I think I was just having a very down day when I posted the last chapter and was in need of a verbal hug! I didn't mean to hold you to ransom that if I didn't get any reviews I wouldn't continue with the story, but honestly when I'm sat at home writing this stuff I do wonder whether there's actually anyone out there reading it and I guess reviews are the only way I have of knowing. So thank you.


	9. Chapter 9

**PART NINE**

"Madame Caron said she heard she bought the old Durand place over six months ago. Had it completely gutted and redecorated, but has never even stepped foot in it once."

"And what about old Claude? He's been working on the garden there for months. Planted all those flowers and for what? There's been no one there to see them. It goes to show some people have more money than sense."

"Yes, but she's definitely living there now. Bernard told me he saw her leaving the place last week in some great big black car."

"He never! What did he say she looked like?"

"Couldn't say apparently – you know what men are like – just said she had sunglasses on. He was able to give me the most minute details about the car though!"

"Good morning, ladies. What can I get for you today?" Peeta enquired as the small gaggle of women entered the shop.

"Good morning, Peeta," the first woman responded. "I'll have two ficelle please. And are those the rolls with the goats cheese in them?" She asked pointing at the shelves behind him, he nodded. "Good, I'll have half a dozen of those as well then."

"Have you heard any news of our new neighbour, Peeta?" One of the other women enquired, hoping he might have over heard some useful tit-bit of gossip in the shop but he just shook his head.

"No, sorry."

"Madame Caron told me that the new owner of the old Durand place has finally moved in. Apparently a Swedish heiress, so she says, but I don't know if there's any truth in it, you know what she's like, Caron's a terrible old gossip."

Peeta bit his lip struggling to suppress an amused smile as he turned to drop six goats cheese and olive rolls into a paper bag. When he turned back to the counter he was surprised to find his customers were no longer stood there. The women were now crowded at the shop front peering out of the window.

"That's her," one of them exclaimed in an excited whisper, as if the subject of their interest would hear her. "That has to be _the_ car."

"Doesn't look very Swedish to me" another huffed, unimpressed.

"Quick, look she's coming this way."

The three women scurried from the window, trying and failing miserably to look nonchalant as the bell above the door jingled as it opened.

The woman, dressed simply and elegantly, removed her oversized sunglasses as the door closed behind her. As it did, Peeta dropped the bag of rolls on the counter.

"Katniss?" He managed to hiss in his stunned state.

"Hello Peeta." She smiled.

The women behind her stared in delighted amazement at their good fortune to witness this juicy gossip development.

Peeta opened his mouth but he seemed to have been rendered speechless as Katniss approached the counter.

"What are you doing here," he managed at last.

"I bought a little holiday home, more of an investment really, a few miles from here and thought it was time I paid it a visit to check on the renovations. Someone told me there was an amazing bakery in town, recommended the cheese rolls actually, imagine my surprise when I found out it was you." She said pleasantly, as if it were a perfectly normal coincidence for her to buy a house just down the road from his home and then come sauntering into his shop after so much time had passed since they'd last seen each other.

"I thought I should invite you over, your son too, if he'd like to come. I think I have a few debts that still need to be settled." She continued, her polite smile never faltering.

Dumbstruck, he just nodded. It was hard to believe she was actually standing in his shop and that this wasn't part of some strange surreal dream. Only, now with her stood before him, he realized that his dreams hadn't done her justice. She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered.

"Well I can see you're busy," she said glancing at the transfixed customers behind her. "Shall we say Sunday afternoon then? I presume you don't have to work then." He shook his head. "Do you need the address?" He shook his head again. Everyone knew where the only Durand place was. The large rambling mansion had been on the brink of decay for years, being saved from ruin months ago by an out of town investor, who it was widely believed must be out of their head to want such a place, it must have cost a small fortune to restore.

"Well, I look forward to seeing you then Peeta." She concluded with polite formality and turned to leave.

"Here," he suddenly blurted, finally finding his voice. She turned back and he handed her the bag from the counter. "Cheese rolls." He explained, cringing with the knowledge that he sounded like a tongue-tied simpleton.

"Thank you. I'll add that to the I.O.U." she joked light heartedly.

"Good morning ladies," she said with barely contained amusement as she passed the women who had watched the exchange with intent interest.

And then she was gone.

Peeta closed up early, tired of fielding questions from the sudden rush of customers, the main aim of whom seemed to be pump him for information about his unexpected visitor.

At least the rush had kept his mind off of Katniss, well as much as he could hope for it to be. He'd spent a good deal of time and effort over the past months trying not to think about her. After she had disappeared that morning in Nice, he had sincerely hoped that wherever she was, she was alright but there was also a part of him that didn't want to know exactly where she was or with whom. He had honestly never expected to see her again but that wasn't to say he hadn't entertained fantasies of what it would be like to be with her again.

When he'd returned home from Nice he was surprised to find the frequency of his nightmares decreased but the dreams of her that replaced them came with their own share of guilt.

He tried to take it merely as a sign that his psyche was telling him he was ready to move on. That it was time to lay to rest the guilt of Margot's death and start living a fuller life again. He joined an internet dating site and met a few women, always careful to ensure they came from the larger neighbouring town rather than his own small local community where everyone knew everyone else's business. But his heart wasn't in it. He felt like he was just going through the motions, forcing himself to date, until he wasn't sure what his reason for doing it was or who exactly it was he was trying to move on from. It was ridiculous that someone he'd met for such a brief amount of time could seem to have affected him to such a degree, but he couldn't get Katniss out of his mind. He had an unsettling feeling that to an extent he had already moved on.

The day they had visited the museum it had all seemed so right, he hadn't had to pretend or put on an act, everything had been so easy and so comfortable. And he'd seen a different girl that day, one beneath all the glitz who he had thought was capable of returning genuine feelings for him. It had been the happiest and the lightest he had felt for a long while.

He didn't know what he'd thought or hoped for that last night they had spent together. Katniss hadn't deceived him, she'd had been honest with him about what she was looking for. But he'd still kissed her. She may have marked him out as her prey the first night, but their last night together it had been his decision, he'd been the one to make the first move. And just for a while he'd been able to fool himself that he was exactly what she needed.

Ultimately though he'd known he couldn't offer her what she wanted. And he still couldn't. But it was clear somebody had. The money to renovate the house, the elegant outfit that had hugged the lines of her body, the top range car they all screamed of money. She'd found someone one to give her exactly what she prized highest.

The woman who had walked into his bakery yesterday was not the girl who visited him in his dreams.

Sure she had been polite, but her formal manner towards him had been one more in keeping with greeting a casual acquaintance, someone you'd met once at a dinner party, not someone who you had unrepentantly begged to _fuck you harder_.

The Katniss he'd met today was a stranger and it was stupid to think it should have been any different. He wondered if she was ashamed of her previous association with the local baker. Worried that he would somehow out her and the nature of their relationship to her new husband. She needn't worry if she wanted to pretend it had never happened, then so could he. He had a wealth of experience playacting. He'd spent the last three years putting on a happy face to the rest of the world. Making sure no one guessed quite how bad his guilt and nightmares were. He'd go to Katniss' house, let her say whatever she felt she needed to say, pay off any debt she thought she owed and then he'd put it all behind him. Forget all about her or at least carry on pretending he had.

He went straight to his in-laws' house to collect Henri, as he did everyday after work. Henri was in the garden kicking a football about when he arrived.

"How was school?" he called out to him.

"It was so cool," his son returned. Peeta raised his eyebrows in surprise, it made a change from the usual response that nothing interesting ever happened at school. "Laurent split his lip open on Antoine's head. There was so much blood!" His son continued with enthusiasm before turning his attention back to scoring a goal between the two trees.

Peeta turned to find his mother-in-law watching him. He kissed her cheeks in welcome.

"Sit down Peeta, you look tired. Do you want a drink?" He nodded and she poured him a small glass of the fortified wine the region was famous for. "I heard you had a visitor today."

He sighed, having expected the question. "Yes, a friend of Joséphine's I met when I was staying in Nice." He half lied.

"Oh, right," his mother-in-law nodded thoughtfully. "Did you know she was moving here?"

He shook his head, using the excuse of watching Henri dribble the ball back up the lawn to look away from her enquiring eyes. "I don't think she has. She said the house was more of an investment. I don't think there's anything that will keep her here long term." He wasn't pleased that a hint of disappointment managed to creep into his voice toward the end, aware that it wouldn't have gone unnoticed.

His mother-in-law shrugged. "Maybe but I can think of easier, more rewarding ways to invest your money than renovating an old building a long way off the tourist track."

He turned back to face her as she continued. "All I'm saying Peeta is that if there were something, or someone that had drawn her to this place, that person shouldn't hold back out of some misguided loyalty to the past."

He frowned at the implication, certain she was incorrect.

"I know your nightmares have improved since your stay in Nice." He saw her considering that fact with the new information he'd just given her about Jo's friend from Nice. "But you're still living in the past. You're young Peeta you should be living your life not putting it on hold, because if you do you might find one day it's all passed you by."

Peeta shook his head, looking back at Henri again. "You're wrong. I don't know what brought her here but it wasn't me. I can't give her what she wants and if she's here like this, it means she's already found someone who could."

"Oh Peeta," the woman at his side sighed gazing at him with a sympathetic smile, "The fact she's here says to me, she definitely hasn't found what she was looking for."

* * *

Sorry this was a fairly short chapter but I promise something a little longer and more smut infused next time!

Not sure when I'll get the next chapter up as writing seems to have been seriously waylaid recently by excessive amounts of fanfic reading. I seem to have stumbled over to the twilight section and got lost in highly addictive if somewhat implausible (but then who am I to talk) stories.

Big thanks to Kismet4891 for betaing and generally being really encouraging and lovely. Who also made an awesome banner for Priceless which is over on my tumblr see profile for link.


	10. Chapter 10

**PART TEN**

The tension that had been mounting in Katniss' stomach all week, ever since her visit to the bakery, had reached its peak and she had been unable to eat a thing all morning.

The meeting with Peeta had gone about as realistically well as could be expected and so it should have. The conversation with Peeta had been scripted and re-scripted in her head to take into account every possible form of response he could have to her reappearance. From surprise, disinterest, angry refusal to speak to her and throwing her out of the shop, right down to the fantasy where he hurdled the counter pulled her into his arms and kissed her in front of a shop full of customers.

She had planned it all out a hundred times in her mind. But now, pacing back and forth in her kitchen, it felt like the worst idea she had ever had to thrust herself uninvited back into his life.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, she cursed the fact that there wasn't enough time to change. The dress she was wearing was entirely wrong, it looked like she was trying much too hard even though it represented the end result of three shopping excursions and at least two hours trying on clothes earlier that morning.

And the food she had laid out on the table, what had she been thinking? What sort of moron bakes bread for a baker? It had seemed like a romantic notion, a reminder of that morning in Nice and besides baking it had been a good way to take her mind of their impending rendezvous. But looking at it now flanked by cold meats and cheeses on the table it felt like a ridiculous thing to have done.

_Aggh_! She screamed internally. She needed a drink but suppressed her desperate thirst with a begrudging groan, she didn't want the first thing Peeta noticed to be the alcohol on her breath.

She couldn't believe that _she_ was allowing herself to get into this state about a man. A man she hardly knew.

After Katniss had left Sven she hadn't permitted herself to seek out Peeta, she had told herself it simply wasn't an option. That just as the decision to end her marriage had had nothing to do with him, neither should her plans for the future to be influenced by impossibly wishful fantasies. She was stronger than that. For the first time she had the financial means that she had always dreamed of, but without being beholden to a man. How could she waste her new found independence by running straight from one man to another? But she would have found it nearly impossible to find the strength to match the conviction of her words, if it hadn't been for the real reason that held her back from contacting Peeta. Fear. The very real fear of rejection.

So she fought her urges and set herself on a very different path that led her far away from Peeta and any unrealistic hopes.

At the time, the game of real or not real had simply seemed a silly diversion to pass the duration of their taxi ride but now it represented a very real reminder of what a long list there had been of things she had never done and experiences she was yet to have.

And so passport in hand she had found herself at the airport staring at the departures board. By the next morning she was in India.

From the second she stepped off the plane her senses were bombarded by the overwhelming noise, crowds, colours and smells that surrounded her. A world away from the sophisticated scene she inhabited in Nice.

She ticked off all the highlights the travel guides suggested, but this neatly packaged version of India merely promised to skim the surface of what the country had to offer. She longed to immerse herself completely, to be swallowed up by the crazy, powerfully beautiful culture that staying in 5 star hotels would not allow. Sometimes on guided tours she caught glimpses of another world, when they skirted past the less salubrious districts, but it was always just out of reach. One day from the window of her taxi Katniss found herself staring into the eyes of a young girl, something so sad and resigned in her gaze that it pained her to see. When she asked the driver about the area they were driving through he dismissed it and the women who lived there as undesirable, not something she would want to see.

But she couldn't stop seeing those eyes, she was unable to get them out of her head. They lead her first to the French embassy and then, with their help, to a charity organisation working with deprived women within the city. Over the months she volunteered with them she experienced a side of India that the exclusive resorts she'd stayed at would never have let her touch.

The girls came to the charity with nothing, many born into a world of prostitution with no chance of ever escaping the same fate. With home little more than one room they were often forced as children to share it at the same time that their mothers serviced men. Some of the women had been stolen and dragged into a life of slavery in the back streets and others had been sold by their parents – sacrificed so that the rest of the family could eat. None of them had chosen this way of life. Circumstances, birth and society had given them no other option.

They hadn't made a shallow choice in life, to take an easy route, to obtain superficial desires. They weren't after some vacuous, pointless lifestyle, where owning a €2,000 handbag held any importance. They were struggling for daily survival, putting themselves at risk every day in squalid, dangerous conditions just to keep themselves and often their children alive.

Katniss learnt a lot of things she thought she had already known, but soon realized she had no understanding of at all.

Life was cruel, hard and unforgiving. And it could be short and painful. But people were resilient and strong and beautiful. And hope could be found even in the darkest of places. That sometimes happiness was only fleeting, but you still had to open yourself up to it and bathe in its glow for as long as it chose to shine on you.

And sometimes love and hope and charity could make a difference that was long lasting and could change a person's life forever.

But despite what she had learnt and the courage that she'd witnessed, she was still running away from her own fears, she had been running ever since she left Peeta in Nice.

She had ran from him then, hidden from the constant thoughts of him ever since and desperately tried to avoid the inevitability that she would eventually act on her desire to see him again.

She needed to know if she had made a mistake, _had she made the wrong decision that day?_ Would their time in Nice never have been more than merely a brief encounter, nothing more than a delicious memory to hold or if she'd allowed it, if she hadn't run, could it have become more? Could he really have wanted _her,_ not the Katniss she'd pretended to be for years but the one she had let him see?

She had laid herself bare, without any pretense or act, in a way she hadn't done since the first time she had truly understood the effect she could have on men and how to use it to her advantage. She had exposed her scheming and her selfishness, her weakness and her shallow greed.

On their last night together she had surrendered to an uncensored need for him and given her real self to Peeta. But she was still afraid that the memory she had left him with was that of a gold-digging whore who had stolen from his bed whilst he still slept and taken his money.

Having seen her for what she truly was, how could he ever possibly want her again? But until she satisfied her need for answers she couldn't move on with her life.

For the hundredth time that morning, Katniss glanced anxiously up at the clock. Why hadn't she given him a definite time instead of just saying Sunday afternoon? What constituted as afternoon anyway? Right up until it started to get dark? It was only 2 o'clock, it could be hours before he came

She was cursing her choice of dress again when the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath. "You can get through this," she told her reflection in the mirror in a pathetic attempt to bolster her courage.

If Peeta acted the same as he had at the bakery, when he had shown no particular excitement to see her, if it became obvious that he had no interest in her – and why should he? - then she could pretend this was simply a polite way of paying back the I.O.U. Then when this afternoon was over she never had to come back to this place and face the humiliation ever again.

The doorbell rung again, worrying her that she was taking so long to answer it and that he would doubt if she was even in. Rushing to the door, she hurriedly yanked it open, just as he was about to knock again causing him to take a stumbling step back from her as he retracted his hand quickly.

She let herself take a good look at him. She felt a little better to see the crisp freshly ironed shirt he was wearing. Surely it was a good sign that he had made an effort too. But as he stood there watching her expectantly, her heart sank to see that his face was unsmiling.

"I'm so glad you could make it do come in," she said letting a façade of polite composure mask her true disappointment. _It's going to be okay_, she told herself again, _just act your way through this, pretend you're hosting one of LeBlanc's boring business soirées. _ She led Peeta through the open plan kitchen dinning room to the French windows that opened onto the garden. "Why don't you take a seat in the garden?" she indicated. "Its such a lovely day, it's a shame to be inside. Can I fetch you a drink?"

He shook his head, making no move to sit. "It's so beautiful out here, don't you think?" She found herself rambling on, "Although I fear I've missed the best of the flowers."

"So I hear," he responded flatly.

She guessed in a town this size it is only natural there would be gossip about the stranger. "What else did you hear?" she asked trying not to let her nerves show.

"That you're a Swedish heiress." He shrugged with disinterest.

"No. My husband was…I mean is." She saw him glance as her left hand. "We're divorced."

"That was quick work?" For a moment his mask of indifference slipped, revealing his surprise, before it was quickly replaced by his original cool apathy. "Was it not everything you hoped it would be?"

"The other way round actually," she said shifting awkwardly, "it seemed I wasn't quite enough for him."

Peeta opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it and frowned.

"Are you sure I can't get you a drink?" Katniss asked quickly moving the conversation on and once again taking refuge in her role of courteous hostess.

"No Katniss, I don't want a drink. I want you to tell me why I'm here. What's this really all about? Why did you buy this house?" He asked gesturing at the house and garden, his voice wasn't angry, he just sounded weary.

_This was a stupid stupid idea_, she chastised herself, _what was I thinking? That he would be all smiles and welcoming me back with open arms. He thinks I'm a money-grabbing whore who only slept with him because I thought he was rich, stole all the money out of his wallet and disappeared, of course he's not thrilled to see me. _ She swallowed her nerves and bitter disappointment and took a steadying breath, never letting her smile falter for even a second.

"Like I said, it's just an investment. I had no idea it was so close to your home. When I found out you lived here, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to settle old debts." She lied. Wishing for about the umpteenth time that she had never conceived the outrageously optimistic plan in the first place. Of course Peeta hadn't swallowed the far-fetched story that she had bought a house in his district purely by coincidence. And if she hadn't invited him to her house on the pretense of paying back the I.O.U then she wouldn't currently find herself in the hideous position of having to pretend that she wasn't affected by his attitude toward her. Worse than the indifference he seemed to be aiming for, it was clear he was uncomfortable, that he found being here with her an entirely unpleasant experience.

"Well if that's the reason I'm here, then let's get this over with." He said coldly.

"Of course." She agreed. "Let me just get my purse." She hoped he wouldn't follow her into the kitchen, that she would have just a few moments to compose herself and shake off the despondency, but when she turned she found him right behind her looking at the table of food she had laid out earlier.

She handed him the cheque that she had written in preparation of such an outcome, although she had sincerely hoped she wouldn't need it.

"Thanks," he said folding the cheque without looking at it and tucking it into his back pocket. "You can tell your other baker," he commented, jerking his head toward the table, "he's not proofing his bread long enough, I can tell from here that loaf's going to be too dense."

"Oh, right." As much as she tried to control it she could still feel the burn of humiliation on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth instinctively turned down as she nodded wordlessly.

"Did…did you make this?" he questioned, his brow creasing in disbelief as he guessed at the reason for her discomfort.

"It was nothing. A stupid idea." She tried to dismiss, moving quickly to the hallway and the front door. She just wanted the whole hideous, mortifying experience to be over with.

"Katniss," he caught her arm as she reached to open the door.

"It was lovely to see you again, thank you so much for stopping by," she thanked him courteously, without looking up, her words coming out in much more of a rush than she'd intended.

"Katniss," he pressed again more insistently. "Look at me, please."

She looked up and instantly wished she hadn't as she found herself staring into his blue eyes.

"Just stop this…whatever this is." He said in angry frustration, "And just tell me the truth. Why am I here? Why are _you_ here? What do you _really_ want?"

All she had to do was shake her head and pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, that she had no ulterior motive. She could keep quiet and spare herself any further humiliation, but if he walked out the door there may never be another chance to tell him how she felt.

"You," she admitted quietly, he sucked in his breath and she winced waiting for his rejection.

"Katniss, I…"

"I know… I shouldn't have come here, it was stupid of me. I shouldn't have…"

"Katniss! Am I allowed to say something?"

She held her breath and nodded.

"Why?" His question caught her by surprise it wasn't the response she had expected. When she didn't respond immediately he continued. "I haven't changed. I'm still the same person who wasn't enough for you last time."

"That's not true. You were more than enough, _you were too good for me_. I was just too blind to see it. You might not have changed, but perhaps I have."

"I don't see it though, Katniss. I can't see you here. Stuck in a quiet little backwater in the Alps, no exclusive parties or designer stores, shacked up with the baker because that's the most I could ever offer you. It's not exactly the glamorous lifestyle you're used to."

"Perhaps I've had enough of all that. I'm not saying I want to instantly settle down. I learnt I'm not very good in the role of the good little wife dutifully turning a blind eye to all my partner's indiscretions."

"Katniss, I …" she held up a hand to quiet him.

"I like my new independence, not constantly having to rely on someone else for everything. And you're right, I'm not certain I could live here twelve months of the year. I think I'd miss the beach too much." She said with a small smile. "But I got everything I'd chased and it didn't make me happy. I haven't been truly happy in years, except for those few days in Nice and that's something I couldn't…I shouldn't ignore." She took a deep breath before admitting, as much to herself as to him. "I made a mistake and I've regretted leaving you every day since I walked out that door. The life style and the money meant nothing, they were a hollow consolation prize without you."

"So what exactly are you saying you want?"

"Whatever you're willing to give. That we take it slow and see where things go. I know I probably don't deserve it, you've every right to say no. You've got you own life here and I promise I won't get in the way of that. But if you give me a second chance, if you let me stay, I promise I'll never hurt you again."

"And we just take it slow and see where it goes?" He queried.

She nodded nervously.

"Katniss." Peeta sighed shaking his head, but she still felt a little spark of hope that he hadn't immediately said no. Acting on it she put her hand to his cheek and he leant into it before placing his own over it and bringing her palm to his lips. "I'm not sure I can take you walking out on me again."

"I won't."

He was quiet for a moment and she began to fear that his answer would be no after all when he spoke again.

"So you don't want a job at the bakery now that you bake?" He said finally with a glint in his eye. The tension she had been holding in her body dissipated as she watched his smile grow. It was the smile she had been waiting to see, pleased that she hadn't forgotten a single detail about the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

"No." She grinned back. "Someone recommended baking as a great stress relief. I find it really helps to clear my mind."

"Is that so perhaps I'll have to give that a try myself," he grinned, before his face fell serious again.

"So tell me exactly how slowly did you want to take this?" He asked, the intensity of his gaze burning into her. She didn't want to let herself believe this was truly happening, it was more than she had hoped for, although she had certainly dreamt of this outcome to their meeting. As she leant back against the door she was certain he should be able to hear the pounding of her quickening heart beat echoing through the wood.

"Because over a year between kisses seems a long time to me, I'm not sure I can take it much slower," Peeta simply stated.

Her chest rose and fell with increasing anticipation as he leant forward. It was soft and familiar, like the last kisses they had shared the ones she had dreamt of a hundred times since.

His body pushed her back against the door as the force of his kiss grew. He clasped her hands in his, pinning them against the wooden door as his tongue moved with hers in a deepening intensity.

He pulled back, leaving her to catch her breath, as he regarded her with a hint of a smirk on his face and for a second she was worried it was all some cruel joke. "Too fast?" he asked. With a flood of relief she shook her head vigorously. His barely contained grin in response, sent a rush through her as she thought of all the times she'd tired not to think of that smile.

His lips found hers again, fiercer than before. And she understood his need. This was not the time for the slow burn of their last union, they had waited too long.

He let go of her hands to run his palms over the smooth silk of her dress. His thumbs tracing over her breasts, catching at the hardened peaks, sensitive to his touch through the thin layers. She let out a whimper of longing that was so uncharacteristic it surprised her. Encouraged he bent his head putting his mouth to the silk, his teeth pulling at her through her clothing, and she let out a delighted gasp. His face reflected the concern that he had done something wrong when she pushed him back, until her hands started to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers fumbling in their impatient urgency, in frustration she took hold of the sides of his shirt front and ripped it open, spraying buttons across the floor.

"I'll buy you another one," she told him in a rush. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled wickedly "Don't worry I'll think of a way you can pay me back."

He shook his head in amused disapproval before his kisses forced her back toward the foot of the stairs.

Her hands ran over the hard lines of his stomach and up through the fine hairs of his chest, pushing his shirt off as she reached his shoulders.

His hands tightly gripped her thighs, pushing up her dress as they moved upwards, sliding over her skin to grab her ass. Peeta gave a guttural moan as he felt her bare flesh in his palms, his fingers exploring to discover the tiny strings of her thong. She inhaled sharply as she felt his strong hands pull her to him at the same time his hips pressed demandingly against her.

Her hands moved quickly between them to unfasten his belt, pulling it from its loops with a slap of leather to toss it to the floor. Her hands then returning to his trousers but before she could pop the button he turned her abruptly to face the wall. Her palms spread out on the surface to support her as his hot breath whispered in her ear, "Your turn." She commended herself on her choice of dress as it effortlessly slipped to the ground once he had unzipped her.

She had to bite down on her lip to control her smug satisfaction at his reaction to the sight of her spread against the wall before him. Hearing his low curse as he kneaded the bare cheeks of her ass again, before roughly pulling her to him by her hips. One large hand spread out across the flat of stomach whilst the other, moved quickly to her breast, rolling the peak of her nipple between his fingertips. She squirmed with need, pushing her hips back to feel him and he groaned at the contact. His hand smoothing downwards over her stomach, catching on the lace edging of her underwear before sliding beneath the sheer fabric. His fingers slipped against her where she was already wet for him and she ground back against his hips, a thrill running through her as she felt him hard for her. She threw her head back as he sunk two fingers inside her and she moaned bracing herself against the wall before her, wobbling on her heels. She made to kick them off but he stopped her with an authoritative tone, "Keep them on."

She was aware of a keening sound that she was sure shouldn't be her as he brought his fingers to rub circles on her clit. She pressed back against him again, urging him on, and she felt his hips buck against her. Followed by his almost pained moan of "No," more to himself than her, "I want to be able to see you."

He turned her flushed face to his as he seamlessly tossed her over one shoulder, raising a yelp of surprise from her and a chuckle from himself. But something caused him to stumble as he climbed the stairs and she landed with a jolt on the steps before him.

"Are you alright?" His concern momentarily outweighing his lust. She nodded, her breath heavy at the sight of him between her thighs. His gaze darkened as he shifted his weight, his hands spreading her legs open to him. She let out a muted groan, dropping back on her elbows as his hot breath hit her through the sheer material of her lace thong.

His teasing touch, through the barrier of her underwear was unbearable torture and she found herself crying out with shuddering pleas. First as his tongue traced her outline and then at the sensation of his teeth raking over the swollen sensitive bundle of nerves. When he finally slid her underwear down her legs, she automatically reached to touch herself. Her fingers working over her heated skin in seek of relief. He watched her movements with fascinated eyes, and she felt a surge of intense carnal satisfaction at the primal hunger evident on his face. As he raised his eyes to hers she removed her hand, making way for him. But he shook his head. "Don't stop." He growled.

He dropped his gaze again as she regained her rhythm. Swearing loudly when his tongue swept against her and again as he began to drive his fingers into her.

"Faster," she moaned, fisting his hair. Her back bowed off the steps, moaning heedlessly as he obeyed, but she didn't take her eyes from his face as he continued to watch the synchronized rhythm of their fingers bring her closer and closer to her climax.

He continued relentlessly, as her body trembled beneath his touch until she cried out his name one final time.

Scooping up her limp, boneless body he carried her swiftly to the top of the stairs. She pointed out the door to her bedroom and he kicked it open with his foot, dropping her to the bed. She watched, contentment giving way to a growing anticipation, as he stripped. Despite what had taken place seconds ago she was filled with a nervous anxiety, waiting for him as he crossed to the bed.

He took hold of the high heels she still wore, removing the first one and placing a gentle kiss to the arch of her sole.

"I thought you wanted me to keep them on?" She queried.

"I was going to fuck you in front of the mirror with your heels on." He said removing the other shoe in a similar process. "But I changed my mind, I want to feel you beneath me, clinging to me when I come." He grinned at her shocked expression. "What?" he laughed, "You don't think I've had plenty of time to fantasize about the various ways I'd like to fuck you if I ever had the chance again." It took her brain a second to register that her mouth was still open from the shock of his words.

"Haven't you thought about it?" He asked coming to hover over her as his tongue trailed up her neck to her jaw. She nodded against his lips.

She was certain her ex-husband had no idea how hard she'd had to work to keep her mind focused on him during sex. Being such a convincing actress, so skilled in faking it, she had given Sven no need to doubt he was the greatest lover she'd ever had. He never guessed at the tremendous restraint it took, every time she came, not to cry out another man's name.

But since her divorce, with less incentive to control her clandestine yearning, it had seemed harder and harder to keep thoughts of him at bay until finally she had given into her desires and fantasized about Peeta almost every night. .

She admitted this truth in a whispered confession "I can't stop thinking about you."

She felt him exhale deeply, before his tongue started its descent back down her neck to her shoulder. His fingers sweeping aside the straps of her bra, before freeing her from the cups without removing it. His lips, tongue and then his teeth taking turns to indulge one breast whilst his fingers teased the other, until she was spreading her legs wide in an impatient need for him and guiding his mouth back to hers, their hands continuing the exploration of the other's body.

She could feel him hard against the inside of her thigh and she shifted to position him against her slick heated skin, he let out a hiss through gritted teeth as she rocked her hips causing him to slip against her.

"Should I…" his sentence broken by her repeated motions, "should we…do we need a condom?"

"I'm…um...good…that is I had a test a couple of months ago. You?"

"I've been careful since we were together."

She was not sure if she was shocked or disappointed that he'd been with others since her. There was no reason he shouldn't have been, he had every right, she had been married after all. But irrational or not she couldn't prevent the intense jealously the news provoked. Nor the possessive warning she silently issued that other women had better keep their hands off - he was hers now.

She felt him slide against her again, until he was positioned and then with a slow thrust he eased inside her. He stilled instantly, swearing at the sensation. She reached up to kiss him and then staring into her eyes he started to move again. He might have said he wanted to fuck her, but she had been with plenty of men before when it had been nothing more than sex and this was nothing like that. Nor did it feel like merely unrequited lust. A sudden bolt of understanding hit her that what she was feeling was something she hadn't ever expected to feel, something that was much closer to love than lust.

She raised her hips wrapping her legs about him and the deepening angle hit her in just the right way. Every nerve ending screaming with intensified sensation. She could feel the tension building again as his thrusts become harder. Just as he'd wanted, she was clinging to him in her final throes when he came.

They lay together after, his face a picture of lazy satisfaction that fed her own glow of contentment. She gently swept his back hair from his sweaty brow with her fingertips and he caught her hand in his bringing it to his lips, before asking.

"Are we really doing this? Are you really staying?" She nodded in answer, but he continued. "This isn't some fucked up way of you paying back some debt you feel you owe me? Because I'm not sure I can do this if you're going to disappear again."

She shook her head. "No. This is real, if you want it to be."

His grin and his kisses were her answer and they laid curled up in each other's arms, painting the other's skin with gentle caresses until she felt him twitching back to life against her thigh.

"So," he teased with a sly grin, "where did we put those shoes?"

* * *

Massive thanks to Kismet4891 for betaing and generally being a wonderfully encouraging.

Apologies if I didn't respond to any reviews, but I do love them and I always check out the profiles of people who review/follow (hope that doesn't sound creepy stalkerish!). I find it fascinating to working out where in the world people are and wondering why they're reading this stuff at weird times of the day.

Only 1 and a bit chapters to go now (which are already written) and then its over hooray!


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven**

"Peeta, are the pain au raisin out of the oven yet?" Delphine called sticking her head around the kitchen door.

"Shit!" Peeta cried out as he caught his arm on the oven burning himself as he removed the trays. "For Christ's sake Delly don't creep up on me. Look what you've made me do." He accused angrily.

"I'm sorry you hurt yourself, but that was not my fault, I did not _creep_ _up_ on you and you know it." She snapped back indignantly.

Peeta grumbled under his breath as he ran his arm under the cold tap. She was right it wasn't her fault, he was tired and he'd been clumsy all morning but he was in a bad mood and it was easier to blame Delly than admit what was really bothering him.

"I hope she's coming back soon," Delphine continued, "I'm not sure how much longer I can put up with you being so bloody miserable."

Peeta turned to face Delphine who stood in the middle of the kitchen with her hands on her hips and a look on her face that made him feel like an errant little boy.

"Don't look at me like that Peeta Mellark, like you don't know what I'm talking about. You know you've been absolutely unbearable ever since she left." She scolded.

Peeta gawked, at a totally lost for words. How could Delly have guessed the cause of his dark mood over the past weeks?

"You know," Delphine continued sarcastically, "that woman you pretend you're not seeing, but the whole town knows that you are?"

Peeta continued to stare at her, unsure how to respond.

Delly shook her head at him, releasing her anger in a resigned sigh. "You didn't really think you were fooling anyone did you, Peeta? The whole town knows you stay over at her place every Friday night. I just hope that when she gets back she can help you get rid of this foul mood of yours." Then on hearing the jingle of the bell above the door as a customer entered the bakery Delphine headed back out to the shop front, leaving him standing in the kitchen still open mouthed in stunned amazement.

Peeta turned slowly to face Thomas his assistant, who just happened to be Delphine's husband. "Hey don't look at me," he started holding up his hands in defense. "I don't know anything."

"But you did know about me and Katniss?" Peeta asked still slightly dumbfounded.

"Only 'cause Delly told me…and well… you know, I've seen Katniss' car parked round the back of the store."

Henri had always stayed over at his grandparents' house on a Friday night and they took him to soccer practice on Saturday mornings whilst Peeta was at work. He and Katniss had quickly taken advantage of the arrangement, it meant they had a whole night together rather than the hastily stolen moments slotted between his other commitments during the week. When Peeta had arranged for Delly and Thom to start opening the store on Saturdays, he had told them it was so he could catch up on accounts and paper work, he felt ridiculous discovering they had known the truth all along.

Peeta was always careful to stay at Katniss' place, out of town and away from the watchful eyes of the local gossips, but occasionally they found time to catch up during the week. After the shop was closed and before Peeta had to collect Henri, Katniss would sometimes drop by the flat. She was always discrete, parking in one of the back streets, never in full view outside of the shop on the main square. But it had been naïve to hope their clandestine meetings had really gone unnoticed.

Thom gave him an apologetic smile and hurriedly went back to work, leaving Peeta to mull it over.

Could what Delphine have said be true? Everyone knew? All of his customers? His parents-in-law? What about Henri, did he know?

He had been careful to keep the two parts of his life separate and Katniss had seemed more than happy to comply. It wasn't exactly a conversation he had felt necessary to have at this point in their relationship, but he got the firm impression that Katniss didn't want children. That she felt she had spent enough of her youth looking after her little sister and now she was happy to have the freedom to do as she pleased.

He was absolutely certain she didn't want to be tied down.

So it had seemed wiser to maintain a distance between Henri and Katniss. He didn't want Henri to become invested in Katniss, to become close to her only to be hurt and confused if she left. In a six year old's world, where no longer being someone's friend was a transient thing that lasted for a day at the most before they were best friends again, it was too much to expect Henri to understand why daddy's friend no longer wanted to see them any more.

And what was troubling him was that it wasn't really a problem of _if_ she left, it was _when_.

He had had his doubts right from the beginning about how long she would be happy to be stuck in this backwater. She had said herself she wasn't convinced she would be able to spend twelve months of the year living in the small town. She had already been gone for over two months, he hadn't seen her since before Christmas. What if next time she went for longer and then longer still the time after that? Until it got to the point where she spent the majority of her time holidaying elsewhere. Was he really happy to sit around and wait for her to come back? One of the main factors behind the foul moods Delly had referred to was the doubt that Katniss would decide to come back at all.

Katniss had received a house in St Barts as part of her divorce settlement and she had taken her mother and sister there to treat them to some winter sun over the Christmas holidays. Her original plan to return after the New Year had changed when an old friend had called in tears and Katniss had gone to her aid in Nice. Katniss had apologized to him, but explained she couldn't abandon her friend whilst she was going through a painful split from her long-term partner. It was only for a short while she had insisted, but that was over two weeks ago and he still had no idea when she was coming back.

Last time she had telephoned, Katniss had chatted on about a party she had attended on a friend's - a male friend's – yacht. Rattling off the names of the rich and famous on the guest list. She had laughed about a couple of young starlets who had got drunk and made fools of themselves, but he had been more focused on the names of a handful of handsome actors also in attendance, in particular one with a reputation as a serial womanizer.

Katniss seemed fully re-immersed in her old lifestyle of extravagant parties and designer labels, settling back amongst her friends with ease. He couldn't even begin to compete. How long would it take her before she realized she was bored with small town life and the small town baker?

Katniss was an independent woman, she didn't need to stay here with him. She had the means to go anywhere and do whatever she wanted. She didn't need anything from him or anyone else anymore.

With only one night together a week and the infrequent surreptitiously stolen moments, their relationship had little chance to progress past one based almost entirely on sex. And whilst that was fine at first he had come to want more, he wanted to give more. But that wasn't what she had asked for and Katniss seemed satisfied with the way things were.

Whilst his desire to protect Henri was genuine, if he were entirely honest, maintaining the distance between the two parts of his life was as much about protecting himself as his son when she finally decided to leave.

This wasn't the way he wanted to live and he needed to tell her that he couldn't carry on like this.

….

Katniss glanced at the bakery nervously as she closed the car door, fiddling with the belt on her Burberry trench coat as she crossed the road. Perhaps she should have called and warned Peeta she was coming. What if he already had company this evening?

He had seemed so distant the last time they had spoken on the phone. She'd recounted what she had thought was an amusing story about something that had happened at one of Finn's parties, but Peeta had been unresponsive and unusually quiet.

She was worried she had stayed away too long but she couldn't turn her back on Portia when she had called in tears distraught that Émile had left her for a younger girl. After nearly seven years their affair was over. He acted like it was the end a business arrangement, as simple as terminating a contract, but Katniss knew it had been different for Portia. She had loved Emile and she had wanted to believe he loved her too. She was devastated by how easily he could trade her in for a newer model without displaying an iota of guilt, feeling he was being more than generous paying her rent for the next six months.

Katniss couldn't leave Portia whilst she was in such a fragile state, but she longed to be away from the toxic world she inhabited.

She found the parties and the elite crowd that she had once aspired to be a part of nauseating. She understood why Finnick never got too attached to anyone. He saw the game for what it was, played by desperate little sycophants eager to please him as long as it got them entry to one of his lavish parties. But then he'd played the game once, too. He still did. Only now he was the one in control. But Katniss didn't want to be part of their artificial world anymore. Strange as it was to admit, she missed the quiet mountain district of Peeta's hometown, the place she now considered home.

But whilst she'd been away she'd had time to realize that her life with Peeta was far from real either. It wasn't what she wanted anymore and she needed to tell him before either of them got hurt.

…

Peeta pulled the pot–au–feu out of the oven spooning the jus over the meat before replacing the lid. The doorbell rang just as he was sliding it back into the oven.

"I'll get it." He called out, throwing his oven mitts down on the counter, and heading for the door.

He hadn't expected to find Katniss stood there. For a second she looked nervous watching his surprised reaction, only relaxing when his initial shock was replaced by a smile. "Katniss what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you." She answered with a wolfish smile that firmly belonged to the confident Katniss he was used to rather than the apprehensive one from a second ago.

She stepped inside closing the door behind her.

"I missed you." She purred as she untied her knotted belt but she stopped with sudden alarm, quickly folding her arms defensively across her body as she realized Peeta already had company for the evening.

Peeta turned, certain he knew what had caused Katniss dismay. "Its okay Henri." He said to his son. "Why don't you go back and watch TV. Dinner will be ready real soon."

Henri wavered, torn between not wanting to miss his favourite show and wanting to know what was going on in the hallway with his dad and that rich woman.

"I should go."

Peeta's heart sank at her words. He had already decided the conversation, which had been preoccupying his mind for days now was inevitable, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it. Much as wished he could, it would be selfish and damaging to them both to postpone it.

"Ok," he said with a resigned nod, "but can we talk first?" He led her down the short hallway to his bedroom.

Katniss stood looking uncomfortable, her arms still folded across her chest hugging her coat to her.

Peeta took a deep breath before he reluctantly spoke. "I can't keep doing this Katniss."

He saw the slightest flit of emotion in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, before her jaw set and her chin rose ever so slightly. Perhaps to others it wouldn't be detectable, but he'd got used to the signs. He had learnt that her walls went up whenever she was at risk of display her true emotions, as if to expose them was a weakness. He wanted to wrap his arms about her and reassure her but, as much as he was loathed to do it, what he had to say needed to be said.

"I've tried but I…I just can't do this anymore. Don't get me wrong… its been incredible…you're incredible…god the sex is incredible… but tonight with Henri here…it just showed me that long term this can't work."

"Ok," she said tersely, "I get it. This was a mistake. Believe me I would never have come if I'd known Henri was here."

"That's the problem." Peeta sighed. "I'm so tired of trying to lead two separate lives, creeping around to ensure no one sees us, pretending that there's nothing going on."

"Well perhaps if you weren't so concerned about people finding out about us we wouldn't have to." She snapped back. "It's nothing new for me to be in a relationship with a man who doesn't respect me, I expected it from them. But you… you're worse than them, no one else has ever been too embarrassed to be seen with me in public before. You're ashamed of us, you're ashamed of me."

"That's not true. I never meant to make you feel like that, I…"

"But you did Peeta. Your wife is dead, yet you still make me feel like I'm having an affair with a married man. You don't want people to find out about us because you still feel guilty."

"No." he said grabbing her arm and stopping her from leaving. "That's not how I feel. I thought it was you who wanted to keep it quiet. You didn't want to be involved with Henri. Right from the beginning you said you wanted to keep separate from my home life. I want people to know."

"That's bullshit! And if that's what you're telling yourself, then you're lying to yourself as much as you are to me. You know it was you who wanted to keep it secret."

He closed his eyes letting his head hang. She was right. He had been a coward. Too afraid of what people would say. Continuing to pretend nothing had changed, just as he had in the past, trying ensure he didn't hurt anyone else's feelings. But all he'd managed to achieve was to hurt Katniss and himself in the process.

"You're right. I did want to keep it separate. But not because I'm ashamed of you. God Katniss, how could you think that?" He put his hands to her face preventing her from looking away and stared earnestly into her eyes as he implored. "I'm so sorry if I made you believe that. You're beautiful Katniss, I love you." He saw the surprise in her eyes. He'd felt it, he hoped he'd shown her but he'd never come out and said it. There had been many times he had wanted to but he didn't think she wanted to hear it. "I just…" he took a deep breath. " I was scared that if I let you into my life, into Henri's that when you left it would be that much harder having to deal with his rejection as well as my own."

"You don't trust me to stay?"

"Why would you? You said yourself you didn't think you could live her twelve months of the year. I mean, come on Katniss, its hardly St. Moritiz here is it? How long before you miss the restaurants, the parties, the yachts, the lifestyle again? You were gone for so long. How long before you realise how much this life bores you and you leave again?"

"I don't want to be anywhere else Peeta. I want _this_ life, here with you." He wanted it to be true, but he found it hard to believe.

"What do _you_ want Peeta?"

He took a deep breath again. If this was over then what did it hurt to lay it all out on the table, at least he'd never regret not having told her.

"I want to be able to wake up with you every day, I want to hold your hand and walk down the street and show everyone how happy I am. Damn it Katniss! I want it all, marriage, kids, I'd have it all with you if I thought that was what you really wanted."

"You want to marry me?"

He shook his head with a pained expression, "Yes, no, does it matter? I mean I've thought about it…about the future, but I don't see how that's possible. You've made it pretty clear that you don't want anything to do with motherhood. But Henri is a massive part of my life… he is my life. I can't keep leading two separate lives.

"I…I thought you wanted it this way. I've …whilst I've been away I've been thinking about us." She struggled to find the right words. "I'm not interested in my old life, I don't want that. I want more. More of us. I want to spend more time with you, not just the rushed hours we have and I know that means getting to know Henri, I just wasn't sure if you wanted me to."

"I do. I do want that, but I saw your face tonight when you realized Henri was here," he said his voice dropping to a hushed whisper not wanting to risk his son overhearing. "You couldn't have been more horrified."

"Peeta. You're right I was pretty horrified to find out we weren't alone. I thought Henri went to his grandparents on a Friday night?"

"They're away."

"But it wasn't because I don't want to get to know him, although I have to admit that does terrify me. It had a lot more to do with the fact that I almost flashed a six year old boy." She opened her coat to reveal the tiny orange bikini she wore beneath.

Peeta's mouth was still open from whatever he'd been about to say but his words were completely lost. All he could think about was the fact his son was a room or two away watching TV, the pot roast needed to come out the oven, and his rapidly hardening erection was reminding him he hadn't even kissed Katniss for over two months.

"Stay," he finally managed. "Please I'd like you to stay for dinner."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I'll need to borrow something to wear?"

"You didn't bring anything else with you?"

"I wasn't really planning on wearing any clothes." She smirked.

"Fuck Katniss! What are you trying to do to me?"

"What do you want me to do to you?" She whispered playfully, raising one eyebrow at him.

Right on cue the buzzer on the oven went off.

"I have to get the… um…food…from the oven." He stumbled, trying desperately to remember the reasons why he couldn't throw her down on the bed. "Help yourself to whatever you want to wear."

He paused halfway out the door, "Just … er… can you keep that on underneath?" He asked. An awkward boyish grin and an embarrassing blush accompanying his request.

"Everything okay?" Peeta asked his son as he poked his head round the door to the living room where Henri was watching cartoons. Henri nodded and grunted an affirmative answer not breaking his gaze on the TV. Peeta frowned the cartoon Henri was currently enjoying was one he didn't usually like him to watch considering it too violent, but now wasn't the time to get into an argument about that. "Er…so Katniss is going to join us for dinner, is that okay with you buddy?"

"Hmm yeah sure." Henri said, finally dragging his eyes from where the cartoon hero, morphed as a weird creature was currently kicking the crap out of some villain. Looking at Peeta he asked, "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Um well…yes," he replied uncomfortably, wishing he'd had time to plan what he was going to say.

"Because Simone says she's your girlfriend."

"Oh right," he hadn't considered that the kids at school would have discussed it, but he guessed they'd over heard their parents' gossip. "What else did she say?"

"That she's really rich?"

"Right."

"And that she saw you kissing."

"What?" Peeta choked. "And… er…how do you feel about that?" Peeta asked trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

Henri screwed up his face in response, "Kissing is gross."

Peeta wasn't sure if he should probe to see if Henri had any deeper, more specific feelings about him kissing Katniss. But Henri looked at him seriously. "Dad you know the oven is still beeping don't you?" And then returned his full attention to the TV once again.

Peeta had expected Katniss to come and join him in the kitchen but after laying another place at the table and plating up the food, she still hadn't appeared. He almost wondered if she'd changed her mind and snuck out. Returning to the living room, he stopped just outside the door to listen to the conversation taking place inside.

Henri was trying to explain the story line of the cartoon he was currently watching and Katniss sounded bemused. "So they're enemies?"

"No, they just fight but at the end they're really happy for each other for winning, they're still friends." Henri was explaining as if he thought Katniss was a little dim. Peeta grinned, Henri took the same tone with him when he questioned the storyline of his favourite shows.

"Dinner's ready." He said sticking his head round the door. Katniss was sat on the sofa next to Henri, she was wearing an old pair of his jeans rolled up at the bottom and one of his t-shirts.

"Henri was just trying to explain the point of Pokémon to me," she said getting up from the sofa, "but I'm still not sure if I understand why they're fighting each other."

Peeta shrugged. "I don't think you're supposed to think too deeply about it." He whispered conspiratorially as they followed Henri through to the kitchen.

"What you mean is that you don't get it either." She laughed and he grinned.

They ate dinner, without Henri asking too many embarrassing questions. He did ask if Katniss was _really_ rich to which he was reasonably satisfied with the answer "rich, not really rich." Totally unsatisfied with why she only had one car if she was rich and completely bemused why it wasn't a really super fast one.

Peeta steered the conversation away from Katniss' wealth by telling Henri that as a treat he could eat his dessert in front of the TV instead of at the table.

"That went pretty well." Peeta commented as Katniss helped him clear the table and stack the dishwasher.

"He's a really lovely kid, Peeta. You've done a great job."

"I had a lot of help."

"Honestly I've been pretty scared about meeting him, I knew it was kind of a deal breaker. If he didn't like me, if he was upset at the idea of us seeing each other then I knew it wouldn't work."

"We would have worked something out."

She shook her head. "I could never have come between you." She said earnestly. "You know that, don't you? I would never get in the way of what you two have and your time together, its too important."

"I don't want what we have to get in the way of my relationship with Henri either Katniss, I want you to be part of it. I'm not going to rush anything, but I meant what I said earlier. I've thought about it a lot whilst you've been away and I knew I wanted a future with you in it I guess I just feared it wasn't a real option. Eventually my dream is for us all to be a family and maybe even one day, if it's what you want, that might include children of our own."

He saw the apprehension in her eyes and he sought to reassure her. "But only if and when you want it Katniss. Lets all just take our time getting to know each other. Right now I'm just really happy you're here and that we don't have to pretend any more."

He stepped closer to kiss her and she wrapped her arms about his neck deepening the kiss. Making room between them to allow his hand to slide beneath the t-shirt she wore until his palm covered the soft warmth of her breast. His fingers finding the naked flesh that lay exposed to either side of the scant triangle of silken material before releasing her and breaking their kiss with a defeated sigh.

"I think Henri needs an early bedtime tonight."

….

In the end they all settled down and watched a film of Henri's choice and he ended up staying up past his usual bedtime. But it did mean that he fell asleep almost immediately after lights out.

"What are you doing?' She asked surprised by the insistent pull of Peeta's hand as he led her back to the kitchen.

"This room is the furthest away from Henri's bedroom."

"We can't do _that_ with him here!" She whispered with shocked disapproval as she guessed at Peeta's intention.

"Why not?

"Because it doesn't seem right. We can't have sex with a child in the house."

"Katniss, with that reasoning most people in the world would be an only child."

But his argument didn't make her feel any less uncomfortable.

"Seriously Katniss," he reassured her, "I wouldn't do anything if I thought Henri was really going to catch us. Besides he's a pretty heavy sleeper, he's had to get used to strange noises in the night. He can sleep through almost anything. Just so as long as you're not too loud." He said as he started to kiss her neck.

"Peeta!" But it was a fairly half-hearted attempt at discouraging him and she made no attempt to step away letting him continue to lavish attention on the exposed slant of her neck.

"God, I missed you so much." He murmured against her skin.

"How much?" she asked cocking an eyebrow at him teasingly.

"You want me to show you?"

She didn't answer instead, she lifted off the t-shirt she was wearing to expose the bikini.

"That is the same one right? The one you bought in the supermarket in Nice?"

She nodded with a coy smile and he swore quietly. He'd confessed to her once that his fantasies during their time apart had included certain scenarios that begun with her wearing that same bikini. He'd been surprised when she admitted she'd kept it.

"I brought it back from St. Barts. I know its still winter, but I thought you'd like to see how it fits."

He stood back admiring her as she unbuckled the belt that had tightly cinched in the oversized jeans. She hardly needed to undo the trousers before they slid to the floor and she kicked them away.

He swore again, dropping to his knees at her feet glorying in the feel of soft skin as he stroked upwards to her inner thigh, letting his thumb graze fleetingly over the smooth material at the juncture of her legs. She tried to push into the pressure of his hand, but his touch was too brief, not lingering long enough to offer her any relief. She groaned at his cruelty but when he looked up at her his gaze wasn't teasing, it was hungry. His fingers continued until they snagged the top of her bikini, curling over their waistband and slowly sliding them down. He didn't want to rush this he'd waited two months, shit he felt like he'd been waiting for this moment since that day in the supermarket.

She stepped out of her bikini bottoms as they fell about her ankles. When he worked his way back up her legs, the sensations created by his tongue on her skin left her aching for more.

This time he took his time touching her. Finding exactly the right spot to send an instant jolt through her body and gain a sharp expletive from her mouth.

He wanted to hear it again, and he ran his tongue across her hot silken skin tasting her, again and again until she was moaning with each stroke.

She gripped the edge of the table behind her with one hand, her other fisting his hair to an almost painful level, but _fuck_ he thought _it felt good_.

Her previous _relationships_ had left Katniss incredibly adept at controlling her emotions, which was what had made her earlier admissions true feelings about their relationship so important. So he reveled in his ability to make her lose control when they were together like this.

His fingers splayed out across her ass keeping a possessive grip on her as he dipped his tongue inside her, before running it the length of her again, sweeping over her sensitive flesh. She cried out his name as she rode against him. Struggling to contain an almost painful, desperate cry of abandon as he thrust his fingers inside her at the same time that he roughly sucked her swollen clit. He held her firmly to him as he felt the beginning of her end coming. Not ceasing his efforts when with a shuddering moan her climax ripped through her, only finally stopping when he felt her grip on his hair loosen and her ragged attempts to reclaim her breath.

But he had no intention of allowing her any respite. Lifting her to sit on the edge of the table he let her taste herself on his lips as he kissed her, joining their tongues as she opened to him. Even as she came down from her gratified high she was urging him on, soon matching the ferocity of his kisses with her own.

His fingers fumbled with his belt in his urgency, cursing at his own clumsiness. She brushed his fingers away to unfasten it, before popping his button and slowly easing down his zipper with a wickedly seductive smile. He exhaled with a sense of relief as she released him from where he'd been straining against the constraints of his clothing. Wrapping her fingers about him she guided him to her and he groaned as he slipped against her, wet with the evidence of her own glorious release. He repeated the movement, savouring the sensation of her slick warmth and she moaned arching and spreading herself to him impatiently.

She felt so good, too good that for a second he had to stop. He didn't want this to be over too soon. But Katniss had other ideas, her fingers clinging to him, hips rising to him with a whine of desperation, "Please Peeta."

Followed shortly after by a gratified groan as he thrust into her, his hands tightening on her hips to hold her in place as he continued his assault. It was hard to tell where her sounds ended and his began, the kitchen was thick with their urgent, pleasured moans and the sound of skin against skin.

He was agonizingly grateful when at last she cried out with finality, aware that he couldn't have held on any longer, and thrusting deeply he found his own release.

Resting his forehead on her shoulder he couldn't stop the words slipping from his mouth for a second time that evening. "I love you, Katniss."

"I know." She responded, of course she did he'd already told her. "I love you, too."

He raised his eyes to hers and she gazed back with a mischievously pleased smile, as if she'd just let him into the best kept secret ever. She raised her eyebrows as if to ask what was so surprising, "You know I do."

He shook his head at her and she frowned. "I'm sorry if I made you doubt it."

She put her lips to his in a soft breath of a kiss and his eyes smiled back in complete satiated contentment.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

He looked down at where they were still connected. "Well you might need to give me a moment here." He smirked.

She rewarded his teasing with an unimpressed slap to his shoulder and he laughed.

"How about you stay the night, we all have breakfast together in the morning and then you come watch Henri's football match with me."

"Wont half the town be there?"

"Exactly."

"Okay." She nodded in assent. Earning a wide smile from Peeta. "But then what?"

"Lunch?

"Very funny Mr. Mellark, but you know that's not what I meant."

"Do we have to have plans past that point? I know what I said about marriage and kids, but I didn't mean to freak you out, I don't want to rush anything." He reassured her. "I think I remember someone suggesting we take it slow and just see where this goes?"

"Hmm." She teasingly mused. "I think I do remember someone suggesting that. But I also remember someone else's suggesting we screw going slow."

"A good suggestion Miss Everdeen," he said thoughtfully as he stepped back to pull up and loosely fasten his jeans appreciatively appraising her naked body as he did so. "I think that's exactly what we should do." She frowned confused not catching his intentional misinterpretation of her words. "I was wrong last time, slow is very underrated," he added with a sly grin.

He ran his hands slowly down the length of her arms until he reached her hands taking hold of them to thread them behind his neck, before deliberately taking his time retracing his path back up her arms. He ran his fingers teasingly slowly downwards, brushing delicately along the curve of her breasts. Creating drawn out measured strokes down her sides to her hips before he drew her to him lifting her so she could wrap her legs about him.

He carried her quietly down the hallway to the bedroom where he proceeded to screw her deliciously slowly.

* * *

**Notes**

Thank you so much to Kismet4891 for all her corrections, suggestions and encouragement. Any mistakes in this are due to me mucking about with the chapter after she beta'd it and so are all my fault.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited this little story. Only one more chapter so thanks to all those who have stuck with it to the almost end.

Peeta's views on cartoons are based on my own – I'm always slightly disturbed when I find my kids watching Ben 10 there seems to be a lot of fighting and kicking the crap out of each other, and Katniss' conversation about Pokemon is one I actually had with my 6 year old. She absolutely loves Pokemon but I'm not sure she really gets it and I don't understand why they're always fighting each other if they're friends – but then I can't actually be bothered to sit down and watch a full episode to find out either.

Wish I was having beef stew (pot au feu) for dinner now – but it's that time just before payday that signals the time of the month when we eat whatever is left in the freezer. Makes for some very interesting combinations – Fish fingers and left over chilli anyone?


	12. Part 12

"Henri, your Mémé is here," Katniss called out as she heard the car pull up outside.

Henri came clattering down the stairs already wearing his football boots.

"Have you remembered your shin pads this time?"

"Already got them on," he said smugly, tapping one leg with the heel of his other boot to demonstrate his point.

"Good luck." She wished him as she opened the door to see Peeta's mother in-law coming up the steps. Henri gave Katniss' cheek a quick kiss goodbye before he bounded down the stairs past his grand-mother toward the waiting car and his grandfather. At ten, Henri hardly had to stretch to reach Katniss' cheek anymore. His maternal grandfather was a tall man and Katniss got the feeling it wouldn't be long before Henri was as tall as her.

"How are you this morning?" Evelyne enquired reaching the top of the steps. "You look tired."

"I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Not long now" she said sympathetically. "You're look very low today," she further commented placing a hand on Katniss' protruding belly. "That baby wants to get out."

"About time," Katniss grumbled, "they should have been out two weeks ago."

"These things happen in their own time." Evelyne smiled gently. "When I was expecting Margot everyone suggested I eat pineapple to speed the delivery up, that or Thierry and I have sex."

Katniss wasn't quite sure how to respond, preferring not to picture Henri's grandparents' sex life even if was in reference to something that happened over three decades ago.

"Why don't we take Henri for the day and give you a chance to get a rest?" Evelyne continued.

"Thank you Evelyne, that would be wonderful."

"Then you can call Peeta and ask him to bring you home a pineapple, and perhaps later he can help you get that baby out of there," she said with a cunning smile and a wink.

Katniss thought that at this point in her life there were few things that could shock her, but the elegant older lady's suggestion still managed to bring a tint of uncomfortable embarrassment to her cheeks.

Katniss tried to sit and watch TV for a while after Henri left but she couldn't get comfortable on the sofa and so she opted to lie down in bed.

Stretched out on her left side with a pillow wedged between her legs she tried to get some sleep, but the baby had other ideas. It seemed they had decided they wanted to follow their big brother onto the football pitch and now was the perfect time for practicing penalty kicks.

"Please bébé, maman is tired." She rubbed the swollen hard round of her stomach in a calming motion only to be met with an elbow or a heel in return. "It's time you got out of there you know." She chastised lightly.

She grabbed the phone off the side table and called the bakery. Delphine answered.

"Hi Delly can you ask Peeta to stop off at Clément's on the way home and pick up a pineapple."

"Trying to get that baby out of there are you?" Delly laughed recognising the tip to speed up labour. "Everyone told me to have a really scorching hot curry when I was late with François, but I don't think any of that actually works. If you really want that baby out of there you and Peeta need to …"

"Gah! Not you as well Delly! Look, just tell Peeta I called." And she hung up quickly the sound of Delphine's laughter still ringing in her ears.

Seriously what was wrong with these people? She felt like a great lump of a beached whale, her boobs hurt, her belly button had popped into an outty, her back was killing her and if that wasn't bad enough she'd started getting an uncomfortable pain in her lower abdomen and groin when she was tired. The last thing she felt like doing was having sex. She couldn't even lie down in bed comfortably.

Why was everyone so keen to give her advice? Half the time the contradicting suggestions she received managed to cancel each other out. And the horror stories! Why would anyone want to share their horror stories with a first time mother? But it seemed everyone had some tale to tell. Twenty four hour labour, emergency cesareans, mastitis, colic. She had months, no years according to some people, of sleepless nights to look forward to and apparently her body would never be the same again.

Nope. There was absolutely no way she was having sex with Peeta again- ever, he'd already done enough damage getting her pregnant in the first place! Although strictly speaking it had been a joint decision to try for a baby, actually come to think of it, it might have even been her suggestion. Katniss had been stunned by the severity of her jealously at the birth of Delly and Thomas' son François, she had honestly thought she would be happy never to have children. But the sight of Peeta with another woman's baby in his arms had brought on an unexpected reaction in her and she found herself with a growing desire to give Peeta a child. And not just because she knew it was what he wanted, but because she wanted it to.

Peeta had always been honest about his wish to have bigger family but he hadn't pushed the matter, simply stating that there was no rush. "Only when you're ready Katniss," he would say. But she had worried she would never be ready. In reality by the time she discovered she was pregnant she had already been a mother for years.

She loved Henri, but it had been a difficult transition. When they had moved in together she had struggled to find the right balance in their relationship. Torn between trying to be his friend, wanting him to like her and having to take the responsibility of a parent and discipline him when Peeta wasn't there.

She had cried the first time she'd had to tell him off and he had stormed to his bedroom yelling, "I hate you, you're not my mother, you can't tell me what to do."

When Peeta had come back from work he'd pulled her into his arms and laughed kindly. "Katniss, that's part of being a parent. When I told Henri the other day he couldn't watch TV because he hadn't done his homework. He told me I was the meanest horriblest dad ever and that he wanted to go and live with Antoine because his parents were so much nicer than his. He's just a kid. He says things he doesn't really mean when he's angry. I'll go talk to him."

Henri had appeared shame faced a few minutes later and apologized. "I'm sorry Katniss, I didn't mean to make you cry. I don't really hate you."

"That's okay Henri. You know why I had to tell you off don't you? I wasn't just trying to be cruel."

"I know."

"Friends again?"

He'd nodded and they'd hugged but it had felt like more than friends, for the first time she'd felt half way like a parent.

It was three years since they'd all moved into the new house just a short distance from the bakery and in that time she'd grown to love Henri unconditionally. He wasn't just Peeta's son any more, they were a family.

But that didn't mean she wasn't terrified of becoming a mother to a tiny helpless completely dependent upon her baby.

Katniss woke to the sounds of Peeta moving about the bedroom. She must have been so dead to the world she hadn't heard him come in or shower.

"Peeta?" she groaned still half a sleep. "How long have you been home?"

"Not long," he smiled down at her. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful for a change."

She stretched and looked at the bedside clock. "Wow," she mumbled sleepily, "I've been asleep for hours."

Tucking her arm beneath her head she watched Peeta move back over to the dresser. Fresh from the shower his damp hair had formed little curls at the nape of his neck that just begged for her to tease her fingers through them. A stray bead of water still clung to the dip where his neck met his shoulder, just where she knew he was sensitive. If she were to slip behind him now and taste it with a flick of her tongue she knew what his reaction would be, the exact sound he would make somewhere between a gasp of ticklish torture and a groan of pleasure. Her eyes travelled down over his body. The towel he wore wrapped about him sat low on his hips, affording her with the chance to survey the lines of his bare back and strong shoulders as he applied deodorant. A smattering of light freckles, a reminder of the last days of summer, were still visible across his shoulders and she wanted to run her finger tips across them and kiss each one. She wanted to feel the hard muscles of his back beneath her palms and wrap her hands about the tight bands of his biceps.

He reached to open the top drawer of the dresser where his underwear was kept.

"Peeta."

"Hmm." He turned to face her, a pair of shorts in his hands.

"Don't bother to put those on."

He looked at her and then the underwear he still held in his hand, as if completely bemused. She didn't blame him, what with the back pain, the insomnia and the indigestion it had been several months since she had felt even slightly like being intimate with him.

"Come here Peeta." She beckoned.

Raising his eyebrows he tossed the pair of shorts away, a smile spreading across his face as he walked towards the bed.

"You should probably lose the towel as well," she added suggestively.

He unwound the towel that had already started to tent at the front and dropped it to the floor.

She pushed herself up to sit as he came to a stop before her.

She wrapped her hand about him, as she looked up with a teasing smile playing on her lips and he groaned pushing into her grip.

"Fuck, Katniss," he moaned as she lowered her mouth to him. His fingers tangling in her hair as she moved over him with more earnest. "Fuck I want you so badly."

She pulled back to look up at him incredulously "Really?"

"Hell yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Because, well look at me I'm gross."

"You're gorgeous." He said with a shake of his head, "And you're tits are twice the size they used to be and I haven't touched them for months." He added in a rush, blushing instantly at his uncensored admission.

"You'll probably have to lie behind me."

His eyes grew wide with shocked disbelief that she was giving him permission, and she suddenly felt a little guilty that she hadn't wanted him to touch her for months.

He slid into the bed behind her. "You're gorgeous." He reiterated as he swept her hair out of the way to kiss her neck. "I know you've had a rough time of it but I think you're beautiful when you're pregnant Katniss. If it was up to me I'd keep you this way all the time."

"Really!" Not sure if she was flattered or horrified.

"Mmhmm," he confirmed kissing her shoulders. "Only maybe with a bit more sex." He teased.

"That's what got me into this state in the first place."

"You're not in a state, you're glorious." He whispered as his hands slipped over her rounded belly, making their way up to very gently cup her swollen breasts.

She could feel his breath growing heavier against her neck as he unbuttoned the neck of her dress until he could slide one hand inside. His touch was light as he smoothed it over her bra before slipping under the material. His fingers catching her nipple between them and she gave a sharp gasp at the sensation of almost painful pleasure.

"Do you like that?" he breathed in her ear.

She nodded, then gasped again as he repeated his action.

She felt his other arm, the one trapped between him and the bed, snake between them as he raised her dress, and she helped him to rid her of her underwear.

She moaned at the overwhelming combination of his grasp on her breast, his teeth on her neck and his fingers gliding against her slick heated skin to reach her clit. Grinding against his hand as his fingers stimulated her.

She growled in frustration at the loss of his touch when he moved his hand to raise her leg, resting it over his thigh.

"Touch yourself." He directed

It was a slightly difficult position to reach herself, but she took over from his ministrations. At the same time she felt him slide his hard length against her wet skin before entering her.

He swore and paused his movement, his forehead dropping against the back of her shoulder before he recommenced his rhythm.

He maintained a tight grip on to her thigh as he thrust into her. The room growing heavy with the sounds of their breathing, their skin becoming increasingly slick with sweat at their joint exertion.

She tried to match his rhythm with her own, but her own actions were becoming increasingly erratic and she knew this wasn't going to last long for either of them.

"Shit Katniss, I can't..."

"Just a bit longer." She pleaded, increasing the pressure of her circled touch on her clitoris.

His hands moved back from her hip to her breast, catching her nipple in a tight grasp between his fingers. It was enough to push her over the edge and she cried out his name as he joined her in his own release.

Leaning over her, she turned her head so he could kiss her lips.

"I love you and you _are_ beautiful."

"Sorry I've been a bit of a grumpy bitch recently."

He chuckled. "That's okay, I'm used to it."

She elbowed him and he gave an exaggerated "Ouch" before adding. "You're going to be a great mother you know." She responded with an unconvinced huff but he defended his comment. "You already are."

She must have fallen asleep because when she woke the room was dark and she was on her own in the bed.

She could hear Peeta and Henri talking downstairs and she supposed she really ought to get out of bed. As she stood up she felt a crippling cramping pain across her lower abdomen that took her breath away and forced her to hold onto the side table for support.

Regaining her breath she made it as far as the door before she looked down at the puddle that had formed at her feet.

"Peeta!" She called out not sure if she was scared or relieved. "Peeta, I think my water just broke."

Birth was neither 'the most wonderful natural experience' she had ever had as promised by some of the birthing books nor was it the horror she had come to expect after some of the tales she had been told by other mothers. The pain had been mainly subdued by the gas and air she'd sucked away on the like her life depended on it, in fact she'd like to take one of those machines home with her if they'd let her.

But no matter how sore she felt it had been worth it.

Peeta and Henri both came to collect her from the hospital. She'd been concerned about how Henri was going to react to the baby. Obviously they had discussed it a lot during the pregnancy, but she had still been worried that he would be jealous. She needn't have been worried, he was completely smitten with his little sister.

Rolling over, Katniss could see the tiny mop of dark hair in the moses basket beside the bed. Katniss sat up wincing a little, still a little sore from the stitches that had been necessary after the birth.

Celeste was asleep on her back, her hands still curled in tight little fists. Every now and again her closed mouth would make a tiny motion as if still suckling on the breast, that was so endearing it made Katniss want to cry.

She heard Peeta groan on the other side of the bed, waking up.

"Is it time to get up?" he asked sleepily.

"No silly, its Sunday."

"What you doing?" He asked sitting up and looking past her to where their daughter still lay fast asleep.

"Just watching."

"Are you crying?" he asked his voice full of bemused concern. "Are you okay, are you feeling sore?"

She shook her head. "I just can't believe it. That she's mine…ours…that we made this tiny thing and she's so perfect."

Peeta leant over to kiss Katniss on the cheek. "I remember feeling the same way when Henri was born. I just wasn't prepared for the shock of how much you could love someone so much so instantly."

Katniss, gave a sniff and wiped away a tear from her cheek. "I'm just so happy and so scared. Its just … so overwhelming."

"I think that might have a bit to do with the hormones." He said wrapping his arm about her and bringing her back to lie with him on the bed again. Before adding softly."Its okay to be scared, its only natural. I know it's daunting and I know you feel overwhelmed, but it's okay. We – the four of us - were going to be just fine."

She rolled over to face him and she kissed his lips gently.

"Thank you."

"I think I'm probably supposed to be thanking you at this point for giving me a beautiful daughter."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. For everything. For a beautiful daughter and a wonderful son. For giving me a second chance when I needed it."

"Katniss, I probably would have given you a third and a fourth and a fifth if you'd wanted me to."

She shook her head again. "I don't know if I deserve you."

"Well you know, beautiful intelligent rich sexy women who could have any man they wanted they're easy to come by but us small town bakers we're a rare breed," he said with faux conceit, "we're worth our weight in gold."

"Mmhmm," she agreed laughing at his ridiculous pompous expression before kissing him, "you're priceless."

* * *

Right so that's it. I'm done. I'm out of here.

Thanks to those who stuck with it to the end.

Sorry if I totally failed to respond to your review - real life has been a bit full on lately and I'm pretty crap at responding anyway.

Massive thanks to Kismet4891 for being awesome.

Might get round to doing a couple of outtakes from this - how katniss got herself into the whole gold-digger business in the first place and maybe a proposal, but not going to promise anything.

Oh and for those of you who speak American you can swap all appearances of the word football for soccer. I just can't bring myself to type soccer 'cause well that's just not what its called!

Thanks again for reading


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